


The Spare Heir and the Too Late Princess

by lyn452



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-02-12 19:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: What if Rhaegar had survived the Trident and returned to overthrow his father? Snippets of that world. (Now a two-shot)





	1. The Spare Heir

****Jon hated King’s Landing and was happy to leave, even if it had been the only home he’d ever known. Very few people cared about him here, and he always felt like the odd one out in the royal family. A spare heir who matched no one else and nothing more.

Jon had spent his entire life in his brother’s shadow, never quite living up to the perfect Targaryen prince. They shared a name, but little else. Aegon had the classic Targaryen features. Aegon’s mother had lived through his difficult birth and still reigned as the perfect queen. Aegon was charming, friendly and outgoing. Aegon was everything Jon wasn’t and could never be.

Jon often felt like everyone wanted Aegon to be his namesake reborn, even his father, though he never admitted it to him, and Jon had been meant to be his second sister-wife. His being born male had been a disappointment. From birth, that’s all he’d ever been.

Even his name had been a mistake. His mother, Lyanna, had mistakenly thought his half-siblings had died and her dying wish had been the name Aegon Targaryen and his father hadn’t the heart to deny it. Jon took to going by the nickname his uncle Ned gave him, almost never answering to Aegon anymore.

His father did his best to love him, but as the heir, Aegon was always the priority. Plus, Jon always noticed how sad his father grew in his company, reminded so strongly of the woman he loved. It made Jon avoid his father as much as possible.

His stepmother, Elia, was kind enough to him, Dorne having different ideas about love and children than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, but her favorite was her daughter who was just like her. A daughter who barely gave Jon any notice, as they had nothing in common but a father.

Viserys hated all of his brother’s children on principle. He claimed that none of them were true dragons and therefore not fit to rule. Jon avoided him as much as he could.

Overall, Jon was not sad to be leaving King’s Landing or his family to be fostered at the North. He’d only visited his cousins once, but had felt more at home at Winterfell than he had ever felt in any of the royal places.

Only one thing made him sad – he’d be leaving Dany behind. The person he loved most in the world. The person who loved him best.

Daenerys Targaryen, Dany, may have been his aunt, but being that she was younger than him, Jon only saw her as his best friend. They were the only Targaryens that got dragon dreams. The first one Jon had had frightened him, watching winter cover the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms and glowing blue eyes of his family staring back at him. He woke up scared and alone, unwilling to bother his siblings or his stepmother or father with his childish fears.

He turned to Dany and she let him in her bed for comfort. She understood completely, as she had the same frightening dreams. It quickly became a routine and the two children slept together more often than they slept apart.

It had been done in childhood innocence but when they got older, Elia found them out and put an end to it. Looking back, Jon understood why. They’d been too innocent to understand why, but Jon had noticed he felt even better with Daenerys when he caressed and rocked against her rather than just holding her tightly. She had never stopped his actions though, once confessing they felt good to her too.

The thought embarrassed him now that the septon had explained why what he’d been doing was wrong. He was glad his stepmother had stopped them, but he found his bed lonely without Dany in it.

He would miss her even more now that he wouldn’t even get to see her in the daytime. He wouldn’t walk through the gardens with her, wouldn’t meet her at the stables to go for rides, and wouldn’t talk with her about everything and anything.

He wished he could take her with and had often thought about secreting her away in a trunk. Dany had laughed at this suggestion when he told her, “And do you think Ned Stark will let me stay in Winterfell when I’m discovered? Teach me how to be a lord and fight with swords alongside you?”

She was here to see him off, the only family member present. He’d exchanged his good-byes with his siblings and father the night before. The only other person who cared about him, Ser Arthur Dayne, was coming with him.

His father had tried to tell the knight his accompaniment wasn’t necessary, but the kingsguard wouldn’t hear of it. “Someone needs to guard the boy on the Kingsroad. Besides, I’m not having that so-called master at arms ruin all my training.” He looked to Jon. “You’re finally almost a respectable swordsman.”

Rhaegar hesitated, but seemed amused at his best friend’s words, “I’m not sure Ned Stark would be happy to host you since the last time you two saw each other, you were trying to kill each other.”

“And I would have killed him if you hadn’t shown up, so he should be honored that I’m personally instructing his nephew.”

It gladdened Jon to have the Sword of the Morning coming with him. He was the only man who seemed to care about Jon besides his father and uncles, guarding him as though Jon was the most important Targaryen in the world rather than the least important one.

Daenerys took his hands, smiling sadly, “I’m so jealous. You get to travel over half the kingdom while I have to stay here and be bored out of my mind.”

“I’d rather have you with me,” Jon said softly.

“I’ll write to you every day, so you’ll never have reason to miss me.” She pushed a lock of his curly black hair behind his ear. “I’ll send you so many, you’ll grow sick of me.”

Jon’s grey eyes met Dany’s violet ones. “I could never get bored with you.”

Ser Dayne, already on horseback, yelled at him. “Hurry up, boy. Ned Stark is Warden of the North and not a man to be kept waiting.”

Jon glared back at the knight, wanting to respond with he was a royal prince and could keep whoever he damn well pleased waiting. But he never said such things to the knight. Mostly because he knew he would pay for every comment he made when he practiced with the Sword of the Morning next.

He paid for it even when he stayed his tongue.

Daenerys had no such compunction. “If you rush our good-bye now, I will be forced to sneak out tonight without my guard and meet up with you on the Kingsroad to finish it properly. Which will only delay you further.”

Ser Arthur frowned, but looked away, saying nothing. Jon would miss how Daenerys dressed down grown, powerful men despite being a small girl herself. She would grow to be the most powerful, wonderful and beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and he was going to miss it.

For a wild moment, he thought about refusing to go, staying behind with Dany, damn the consequences. She seemed to understand, hugging him close and whispering into his ear, “You must go, but no matter the distance that separates us, we are together.”

When she pulled away, Jon could feel the tears escaping his eyes. He wiped them away quickly, hot shame coloring his cheeks. He was a man now, he shouldn’t be crying.

Dany didn’t seem to mind or think less of him for it. Her hands held his face in her tiny hands. “Something to remember me by,” she said before pulling him down to her.

It was Jon’s first kiss. He felt like he fumbled through it while Daenerys was perfect, with her soft lips and sweet scent. Jon’s hands went around her waist, pulling her closer.

He wanted to take her with him.

But Daenerys ended the kiss, pulling away and stepping back. Jon stood there gaping like a fool for a moment before nodding, “Good-bye, Dany.” He turned to mount his horse.

She waved to him as he trotted off, which he returned.

He looked back once more to see her standing there watching him leave. He would always wonder how long she stood there watching after him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jon didn’t see Daenerys again until his sister’s wedding to Renly Baratheon. A political match to heal the wounds of the rebellion. His breath had caught at the sight of her. Dany had always been pretty, but he’d always seen her as a girl through a boy’s eyes.

She was a woman now, and the tug at his groin proved that he was now a man. Her red silk dress pooled over her like water. Only her shoulders were exposed but it clung to her curves in a way that made it seem indecent. Jon’s first reaction after lust was the desire to drape his cloak over her to hide her from other greedy eyes.

Her entire being lit up at the sight of him and she grinned. “Jon,” she nearly ran to him, but with a smooth glide only she could pull off so gracefully. “Look at you,” her hands touched the fur at his neck. “You look like a proper north man.”

Jon knew she was waiting for a response, but he was lost in the scent of her. How could he ever forget how Daenerys smelt of sunshine and the roses of the Red Keep? How could he have forgotten the exact shade of violet her eyes were, paler than any of the men in their family? Had she always been this beautiful? Had he just not noticed it?

“Jon?” Her question broke him from his daze. He was embarrassed by the unabashed amusement in her eyes and he ducked his head in an attempt to correct his blatant staring.

“Hello Daenerys.”

“Not Dany, anymore?” She almost sounded hurt.

“I mean Dany.” Jon stumbled over his words. Since when was is so hard to speak with her? He’d been writing her faithfully since leaving. She was still his best friend. He just hadn’t seen her in years. Hadn’t known she’d grown into a woman, a woman he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. He clenched his hands into fists by his side to stop himself from touching her.

She looked even more amused at his struggle. He felt even more embarrassed. Why couldn’t he have any skill with beautiful women? Any at all? He watched his cousin Robb flirt with ease. Theon had had half the serving girls of Winterfell because of his charms. He’d seen a few men speak with Daenerys without trouble. Even he could communicate with her well enough when he didn’t have to see her.

Something in the distance caught her eye and she said, “I just spotted someone I need to speak with, but I want to hear everything about the North later.”

Jon answered, “You have already heard everything.” They’d been writing each other every week.

Daenerys’ finger touched his chest in a way he wasn’t sure was innocent. “Yes, but you picked up a bit of the northern accent and I want to hear it more.”

Jon blushed as she walked away. His eyes followed her, but he forced himself to stop. What was happening with him? He spent most of his free time in Winterfell with Arya and acted like a normal human being around her. Why was he stumbling over his words and actions with Daenerys all of the sudden?

He grabbed a glass of wine and downed it quickly. He spent the rest of the feast making small talk with lords, most of who were sure to mention their daughters and granddaughters, which made Jon want to roll his eyes. He’d forgotten what the Crownlands were like, everyone was after something.

He was developing a pleasant buzz on the wine (the North had many things to recommend it, but its wine was terrible), when Daenerys found him again. She nearly fell into his lap after twirling away from dancing with another lord.

Jon steadied her and stood up. She laughed and pulled on his arm. “Come on, I need another glass of wine.” She pulled him to the right table to get a new drink. She watched him as she sipped on her drink. “I have not seen enough of you tonight.”

He’d seen plenty of her. His eyes targeted on her red dress and silver hair. She was always there at the edge of his vision. He said nothing, not wanting to admit the truth. She refilled her glass and took his arm. “Let us take a walk outside.”

He escorted her using all the skill he’d been taught as a prince. What little had been pounded into him as a child was rusted now, as he hadn’t needed such skills as a ward in the North. They had manners, but they weren’t southern manners. Jon felt that despite his birth, he would never feel like a southerner again. He was meant for the North.

Daenerys kept glancing at him. “Tell me about the North in that delightful new accent of yours, Jon.”

Jon blushed. He didn’t think he’d blushed this much ever before in his life. The things Dany did to him. “Not much to say that I haven’t already told you.”

“Really? Because there’s plenty I left out of my letters.”

Jon looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Daenerys sip from her glass. “Rhaegar is obsessed with prophecies and dragons. Spends more time chasing rumors and legends than ruling his kingdom.” Daenerys finished her wine. “Viserys has gotten worse over the years. Doesn’t even limit his cruelties the servants anymore. I’ve been trying to stop him, but it just turns his meanness to me.” She threw her wine glass to the ground, shattering it against the stone walkway.

Jon stopped, forcing her to face him. “What happened? Did he do something to you?” Jon could feel his anger rising. He’d kill that fucker if he’d hurt Dany, uncle or not.

Daenerys shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She looked up at the full moon. Jon looked at her bathed in moonlight. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but she continued, “Rhaegar is too soft, Jon. It’s going to get him killed. Viserys is desperate for the throne.”

“Viserys?” Jon questioned, distracted by her. He shook his head to free himself from the spell that was her. “Aegon is the heir.”

“Is he?” Daenerys asked. Her eyebrow arched as she looked at him.

“Yes.” Jon responded bluntly. “Viserys is after me in the line of succession and possibly even Renly now.”

“Unless Aerys’ will declared him heir after Rhaegar, cutting Aegon and you and even Rhaenys out completely.”

Jon’s head cocked. “Are you saying it did?”

Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t have the will, so I’m not sure. But Viserys talks too much when he drinks too much.”

Jon wondered why Daenerys was around Viserys when he drank too much. She had always avoided him before, as his uncle thought of Dany as little more than family property. “You should tell Aegon.”

“I have, but he’s too busy courting me to actually listen to me.”

Jon looked at Daenerys, worry clouding his features. What had happened to his family while he was gone? It had never been a normal one, but it seemed they had gone from harmless garter snakes to a pack of vicious vipers in his absence, Daenerys included. He said as much to her.

She scoffed, “Snakes? We’re dragons, Jon. Or are you too much of a wolf now to remember that?”

She held out her arm again and Jon took it, they made another lap. Jon asked, “What did you mean Aegon is courting you?”

“Oh, Aegon’s been courting me for ages now. Thinks a Targaryen bride is his right as a Targaryen king. Viserys has been talking about it too. Rhaegar keeps insisting that he’s abandoning the practice.”

Jon struggled not to shift within his fine clothes. “So who are you going to marry then?”

Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “None of them. That’s for sure.”

“If the king commands you...” Jon

“Rhaegar won’t enforce it. The only way he could is to threaten pain of death, and I would rather lose my head than marry Aegon or Viserys. And we both know he won’t kill me for having the courage he didn’t have when he married Elia Martell.”

Jon looked around to see if anyone could hear them. “You shouldn’t talk like that. It’s treasonous.”

“I’m not talking about my king, Jon. I’m talking about my brother. He’s a good man, but he’s got flaws. Silly to pretend otherwise.”

Daenerys looked at the moon once more and Jon was reminded why he so admired her. Her beauty was something, but it was her spirit that he loved so much. Daenerys Targaryen was no man’s slave, a true dragon, more than any of them.

“The dumbest thing Rhaegar ever did was tell Aegon he couldn’t marry me. It’s the only reason he wants me now.”

“Dumber than beginning Robert’s Rebellion?”

Dany grinned. “Not even close. At least we got you out of that mess.” Jon smiled. Daenerys was the only thing he missed from King’s Landing. “Aegon just wants his beautiful Targaryen bride, fits the image, you know.”

He moved the strap of her dress back to her shoulder as it had slipped down during their walking. “It’s more than you being beautiful, Dany. You’re smart and passionate. You’re confident and bold. You have a great wit and a good heart. Of course he’d want to marry you.”

Daenerys’ hand clasped Jon’s, and Jon’s heart lurched. “That’s sweet of you to say, but those are the reasons you’d marry me, Jon.”

Jon didn’t think he could take his eyes off of her in that moment. He blurted out the first thing he could think of to make himself stop staring, “I’ve been writing to great uncle Aemon.”

Daenerys blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Jon ducked his head. “I’m thinking of joining him at the Wall. Becoming a man of the Night’s Watch.”

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed and she gave him a look Jon had never seen directed at him before. “If you leave me alone in this family. I’ll never forgive you.”

Jon knew she wouldn’t understand. The only life Jon could have as a second prince would be to serve as a back-up in case something happened to his brother and a bargaining chip for the king to marry him off to whatever lady the Targaryens need to make an alliance with. He never wanted a life like that. He dreaded the thought of a royal life. He could do some good at the Wall, protecting the realm. His title wouldn’t matter there. He could find his true worth on the wall. And she would be safe even without him around. “Dany, my father…”

“Is too busy being king to play brother to his little sister.”

Jon knew there was truth to that. They were close enough to the party that they could hear the music. Daenerys tugged on his arm. “Come on, dance with me.”

Jon dragged his feet. “I don’t dance.”

“Aegon Targaryen, you are a prince of the Seven Kingdoms, we both know you can dance and you’ll dance with me.” She grinned and Jon grinned back. He held her tightly as they made their way around the dance floor. Daenerys danced with almost every lord that night, being the only princess left for Rhaegar to bargain alliances with now, but Jon felt like he was the only one to get the real Dany.

The one he loved so dearly. The one he missed so much. The one no man in the Seven Kingdoms deserved to marry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon felt warm, he always did since he still preferred his northern furs despite returning to King’s Landing. Daenerys had the exact opposite problem, Jon noticed more and more lately. She only wanted to wear the barest of silk dresses. Her favorite styles were imported from Essos, which were basically scraps of fabric that just barely covered the essential parts.

They drove Jon wild though he tried to hide it as best as he could. Just the other night, she’d worn some tease of dress while speaking to him in his chambers that he swore was see-through when the firelight hit it just right.

It had been the quickest release he’d ever found, once she’d left and his hand went under his small clothes to rid himself of the erection she’d caused and kept hard for over an hour with her teasing attire. He hoped she hadn’t known, but he suspected she knew something was wrong with him when he refused to move from his spot, hiding his lap under the table.

It was getting to be a real problem. He couldn’t stop staring at Daenerys. His thoughts of her grew dirtier with each day. It was almost to the point where just thinking of her caused him to harden. He longed for the days when he could innocently sleep in the same bed with her without doing anything other than hugging her.

He knew if she ever crept into his bed now to escape nightmares, he would probably end up horrifying her rather than comforting her. Jon wished these feelings would go away. He wished that he could stop lusting after his best friend.

If Daenerys noticed his struggle, she did nothing to lesson his burden. If anything, she made it worse, lightly touching him whenever they were alone and letting her eyes look over him like he was a meal from time to time.

He often wondered just what Daenerys’ reaction would be if he’d ever found the courage to kiss her, to press her up to some wall or door and rut against her as an animal would. He would never dare, fearing that she would never speak to him again if did such a thing.

He feared even more that she would encourage such behavior, that she would let him have his way with her and have her own way with him. He was terrified that his greatest fantasies were true because that would mean he would never be able to stop. He would abandon any and all of his royal duties and spend the entirety of his time in bed with Dany, worshiping her.

“You seem distracted today,” she observed as they sat together alone in the gardens. Normally they would have a guard with them, but Jon had convinced them that he was guard enough. Still, it would be foolish to assume they were completely alone as spies were everywhere.

He shook his head. “Just lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?”

“Nothing important,” she bit her lip before she continued. “Have you heard the news? Is that what has you thinking?”

“What news?” Jon was always the last to know everything. He didn’t really care, but he knew it was seen as a weakness by everyone else in King’s Landing that he didn’t have his own spy network.

“Rhaegar is announcing the next royal wedding today.”

Jon’s heart stopped. No. Not Daenerys. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

“My brother is set to marry Sansa Stark.”

The relief was short-lived. Jon hadn’t been close to Sansa during his time in Winterfell, but she was a nice enough girl. She didn’t deserve to be married to a monster. “No.”

Daenerys, unsurprised by his reaction, reached for her glass of summer tea. “Winterfell was a terrible influence on you,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” Jon asked angrily. It had been home to him. He’d learned how to be a good man there with the Starks.

“You’re honest and honorable now. Neither is a good trait in King’s Landing.”

“Maybe King’s Landing is the problem, not Winterfell.”

Daenerys said nothing to that, looking out over the lush greenery of the gardens.

Jon’s thoughts raced concerning the marriage. It wasn’t officially announced yet. There was still time. He brought his chair closer to Dany’s, the scratching noise disrupting the tranquility of their setting. Dany did seem surprised by this action.

He lowered his voice, “I don’t want your brother to marry Sansa Stark.”

Dany shook her head. “It’s to heal wounds from the rebellion, you know that. A Stark and a Targaryen uniting the right way this time.”

“I was fostered there. Didn’t that do anything to heal the realm?”

“Not permanently. Besides, you’re family to them too. It made good sense to foster you there.”

“Daenerys, you play the game better than anyone. Aegon can’t stop talking about Margaery Tyrell. I know you put her in his path to put him off you. You can fix this, I know you can.”

Daenerys sighed. “Is she too close to any stable hands, maybe the Greyjoy hostage?”

“What? Of course not!”

“I’m not magic, Jon.” She explained as she would to a child. “I can stain her reputation with rumor that she’s not fit for a prince or…”

“Or what?”

“I can find her another prince.” She looked into his eyes and he knew what she meant by the sadness he found there.

Jon shook his head. “I don’t want to marry Sansa.”

She let out a grunt of frustration. “Then who are you planning to marry, Jon?”

“I wanted to take the black. You talked me out of it.”

“For your own good. You’re better than being some crow.”

“Who are you planning on marrying, Daenerys?” Jon retorted. “I noticed that Martell boy doesn’t hang around anymore. Father’s somehow holding the Lannisters off on your behalf as well.”

“That’s a good point. I could marry Robb Stark. Would that make you happy?”

No, thought Jon. Be he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t explain why the idea of the two people he was closest to in the world marrying made his stomach churn.

“Figure out what you want,” she left him in a huff.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon so rarely got to speak with his father one-on-one that most of their talks were awkward. Like two men with a passing acquaintance trying to make small talk rather than a father and son. But Jon had an important question, one that only his father could truly answer for him.

He’d asked Ser Arthur Dayne first. The man had been Jon’s shadow for as long as he could remember, as he considered his prince’s order to protect Lyanna and their child at all costs binding. Sometimes Jon was annoyed by the Kingsguard’s constant presence, as Jon could now look after himself, but mostly the knight had served as a father and teacher to Jon. Jon knew that Ser Dayne was probably the main reason he could always beat his brother and any other man he’d faced (other than the Sword of the Morning himself) in sword combat.

But due to his vow of celibacy, Ser Arthur had no insight to offer Jon, so he had to seek out his father. Jon rarely did, knowing his father’s time was precious and not to be wasted on second sons and their stupid questions.

“How did you know it was love?” Jon asked, unable to even look at his father. “How did you know that you loved Lyanna Stark?” Jon’s eyes glanced up to see the king’s reaction.

Rhaegar smiled softly at the memory of his Lady love. “I know over a hundred songs about love and still all those songwriters never quite captured the feeling perfectly.” His dark indigo eyes met his son’s grey ones. “You just know. It’s something in your gut, a pain in your heart at the thought of leaving them behind.”

Jon nodded. He prepared to leave, let his father get back to his kingly duties.

But Rhaegar stopped him, “Why do you ask, Aegon?”

His father was the only person who insisted on calling him Aegon rather than Jon. And he got away with it because no one could correct a king. “No reason.”

Rhaegar didn’t appear to believe him. He stood up, going to the window in his private chamber, which looked out over King’s Landing. “I’ve noticed you have been spending a lot of time with Daenerys since coming back. Even before then, if we’re being totally honest.”

Jon blushed, feeling like he’d been caught doing something wrong, even though it was perfectly fine for him to spend time with his aunt. Nothing inappropriate had happened between them; they only ever talked and occasionally held hands or linked arms. “We’ve always been close. She’s family to me.”

“Is she? Is that how you see her?” Rhaegar regarded Jon seriously. “Aegon, is there something you want to ask me? Not as your father, but as Daenerys’ brother and protector?”

Jon’s courage failed him. “No.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The king’s funeral had been a sorrowful affair. The entire kingdom had mourned for their beloved Rhaegar Targaryen. The royal family reunited, which led to arguments and insults. Jon had stood next to Daenerys throughout the entire affair, holding her hand often. She had softly commented, “It’ll all going to go bad now, Jon. Rhaegar was the only thing holding back the storm.”

She had been right. The mess that followed was one that Jon still couldn’t quite sort through completely. It began at the will reading, where Rhaegar had left the dragon eggs he’d died trying to awaken to Daenerys, as a wedding gift he hadn’t been able to give her. Everyone was surprised by this. Viserys and Aegon immediately began to fight over it, claiming the eggs as Targaryen heirlooms that should reside with the head of the house, which they both claimed to be. Daenerys ignored them both, taking her dragon eggs without comment.

Then the fight over the succession began. Daenerys had been right all those years ago, and Viserys brought out his father’s will which claimed him as heir. Aegon thought it ridiculous and refused to even consider the claim, but the small council waited to crown him to verify the will’s authenticity and look over the laws of succession.

It was in this lull that Sansa Stark-Targaryen was killed under suspicious circumstances. This was the event that led to the war.

Viserys claimed Aegon killed his wife, as she had been with child and Aegon feared that Viserys having an heir would strengthen his claim. Aegon announced that to be ridiculous. Their fighting intensified, the Starks demanding justice for their slain daughter, the Martells backing their nephew’s innocence.

Jon tried to reason with both men, but neither listened to him. He was annoyed with Daenerys who refused to take part in their arguing and stayed out of the entire affair.

When Ned Stark, who’d been under the care of Aegon, was found dead, the North declared war, proclaiming Viserys their king. The seven kingdoms split in two, half siding with the North and Viserys, the other half siding with Aegon. Only the Westerlands stayed out of the fight.

Jon followed his brother, even though he had no desire to fight against his cousins.

Daenerys was planning to leave for Essos, choosing to wait out the end of the war in warmer lands. Jon hated her for this and snarled at her while she made her plans, “So you’re running and hiding like a coward.”

She ignored his accusation. “Have you thought your side through, Jon? You realize you’ll be fighting your northern family, right? Who fight for the honor of Viserys’ beloved Sansa.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice. “So cruelly murdered by the false king.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” But it couldn’t be proven.

“Yes, much like how your mother was kidnapped and raped. Wars begin over lies all the time, until those lies become truths. And thousands die for it.”

“Which is why we have to fight for the truth, Daenerys.”

The princess slammed a trunk shut before turning to face Jon. “You want a truth? Aegon took Ned and Arya Stark hostage right after Sansa died.”

“To protect them!”

“But how does it look? Aegon blundered right into that mess. I’m not siding with the nephew who’s going to lose. Nor the brother who’s too cruel to sit on the throne. His only cleverness coming from Tywin Lannister whispering in his ear.”

“Then be the one who whispers in Aegon’s ear. You can help him. We both know you can win the great game, Dany.”

“Aegon doesn’t listen to me. Always thought himself better than me because he was older and male. I played him without any effort and he was too stupid to ever see it. Margaery pulls his strings now; he’ll only use me as a marriage bargaining chip.”

Jon looked away, knowing that Daenerys was right. She almost always was. “You could win the war the quickest, Dany. Your intervention could save lives.”

Daenerys stopped and considered Jon’s words for a moment. “You would be the best king, Jon. I would support your claim and no one else’s.”

Jon stopped. He hadn’t meant that. He’d never imagined she would say such a thing. His mouth finally caught up with his stuttering brain, “I’m a second son. I have no claim to the throne.”

Daenerys walked towards him, her eyes never leaving his so he would know what she said was true. “The marriage was annulled, Jon. Rhaegar didn’t divorce Elia to marry Lyanna. He had the marriage annulled. Aegon’s technically a bastard. You are the only legitimate son to Rhaegar Targaryen. You are the true heir to the Iron Throne. It was only kindness that kept your siblings’ claims intact.”

Jon couldn’t believe that, any of it. His legs collapsed under the weight of what she was saying, and he sat on her soft bed. She sat beside him, taking his hand. “No, I would have known. Father would have told me.”

“I have proof,” she said softly. “It was written in a book by a maester.”

“You’ve known all this time,” Jon felt betrayed by the one person he thought would never hurt him.

Daenerys’ hand was soft on his cheek. “I couldn’t risk it. Such knowledge was too dangerous. If Viserys or Aegon had ever found out, you might have died before Rhaegar.”

“Aegon would never hurt me.”

“He’s about to go to war with his uncle over the throne. Don’t underestimate the power of greed, Jon.” Her finger brushed across his lips. “It’ll get you killed.”

“I don’t want it. I won’t fight for the throne,” Jon said with finality. Daenerys looked sad but didn’t fight him on it.

“You truly are the wisest of all of us.” She stood. “I think they are both being fools. It doesn’t matter who is king. Our people will only suffer for their greed.”

Daenerys always spoke of the people, more than any of them. She cared so much for the small folk. Jon stood, his arms coming around her waist. “It’s too bad you couldn’t be queen. You’d be wonderful at it.”

Daenerys smiled and leaned against his chest. After a moment, she turned in his arms, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear. ”I’d be your queen, Jon.” She pulled him into a slow, long kiss. When it ended she said against his lips, “Survive. I don’t want to live in a world you’re not in.”

She moved to leave, but Jon wouldn’t let her go, not tonight. He brought her in for another kiss, this one full of all of the lust he’d felt for her for so long. His tongue danced and battled with hers as he pushed her back on the bed.

Daenerys fell and Jon fell with her, his lips never leaving hers as his hands went under her silks. Her legs were just as soft and silky as the fabric and he groaned in her mouth at the sensation. Daenerys bit his lip, as her hips lifted to move against his. Jon groaned once again at the contact.

Daenerys pulled back for a second to study Jon’s eyes. Jon tried to get his heavy breathing under control. Why he was so winded when they had barely done anything, he wasn’t sure. But staring at her violet eyes, he knew, he loved her. She was the only woman for him.

He kissed her again, unable to keep away for long. Daenerys returned the kiss with the same vigor. Her hands moved under his tunic, seeking bare skin. Jon moved between her legs, thrusting up into her, thin pieces of fabric alone keeping them from being joined fully. Both gasped at the sensation. Jon pulled back slightly to lick the lips of his lover.

Dany bit back, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Jon groaned at the sensation. They separated for a moment, catching their breaths and studying each other’s eyes. Jon slowed. “Are you sure?”

Daenerys smiled at him. “You really are too kind, Jon.” She leaned up and kissed him again.

He pulled away once more, “But your virtue.” Jon’s mind worked slowly so tight against her that he could feel the heat radiating off her. “Your husband.”

She turned her head to kiss his wrist. “You are a prince. What better man will there be than you?”

Jon looked at Dany, his Dany, with awe. She always knew the perfect thing to say. He moved against her once more, slowly thrusting against her. He willed himself to slow down and took a deep breath. He’d imagined this so often it would be a shame if ended too quickly.

His fingers moved across the silk dress, carefully removing it. For a few scraps of fabric banded together, it was strangely complicated to remove. Every bit of skin exposed to him was feasted upon, first by his eyes than his lips. She was so beautiful. Her gasps better than anything he’d imagined.

He kissed his ways down her body, lingering on her inner thighs. He knew where he was heading, but Daenerys seemed confused by his actions. Until he moved his head and began to kiss her lower lips. She took a shuddering a breath, “What are you doing?”

Jon gave her a quick smile. “Relax,” he reassured her. He’d dreamed of this, of devouring her. His hands spread her legs further as his head ducked down again, his tongue lapping her. Even if he hadn’t wanted to do this, Daenerys’ screech at the action would have propelled him to continue.

He kept at it until Daenerys thrashed and tugged on his hair to bring him up to kiss him once more.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Daenerys panted.

“When have you ever heard such things,” Jon couldn’t believe anyone would ever be so crude in front of a princess.

Dany smirked. “I am a princess in the Red Keep without a mother to guide her. Many of my maids and the noble ladies of court feel it their duty to instruct me on my wifely duties.”

Jon blinked at her. Women did this? Women talked of bawdy matters? Noble women even? He didn’t understand and it must have showed because Daenerys laughter rang out. She pulled him up for a kiss, throwing her leg over his and flipping them so she was on top once more. “Would you like me to show you?”

She looked down significantly. Jon groaned as images filled his mind of Dany’s sweet mouth wrapped around his cock, but he shook his head. “No, not for the first time.”

Daenerys nodded. She leaned forward to kiss him again. Jon’s hands gripped her hair tightly holding her there as his tongue pillaged her mouth. He wondered if she could taste herself on his tongue. The thought made him more desperate for her.

Seeming to read his mind, her hand pumped him a few times before she steadied him and then placed herself above him. Jon’s darkened eyes searched Dany’s as he knew there was no going back from this moment.

She impaled herself on him, and Jon’s eyes rolled back, a loud groan escaping his lips. He’d imagine this so many times. What she’d feel like sheathed around him, what she’d sound like in the throes of pleasure...

The reality was so much better than anything he’d ever imagined.

She rode him for what felt like hours, and Jon laid back and let her. He quite enjoyed how she used his body for her own pleasure. Until her rhythm got sloppy and Jon looked up to see her brow furrowed like she was searching for something just out of reach.

He bolted up, gathering her in his arms as he flipped them both over. The change in position made them both groan. He thrusted into her, as deeply as he could go. He knew he could get lost in this, lost in her, and part of him was glad for it. Welcomed it with open arms.

But he wanted her to remember him well, wanted her to enjoy this as well. He vaguly remembered something Viserys had told him about a button between a woman’s legs that made her spread them. He hated the memory, but his hand reached between their bodies, looking for something.

He knew when he’d found it because Dany screamed at his touch. He kept circling it and driving into her, knowing he was going to come soon, but not wanting to come alone. He felt her flutter around him and watched her thrash and scream beneath him.

He hoped that was enough because his own release overtook him and he spent inside of her. He collapsed atop her, trying to land a little off to not crush her with his weight, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to move anytime soon.

“Where in the seven hells did you learn that?” she gasped out. Jon felt a blossom of pride that she was just as sweaty and exhausted as him.

“You don’t want to know,” he answered truthfully.

They stayed there for a long moment, catching their breaths. Jon nuzzled into her neck, placing kisses on her jawline. “Stay with me,” he whispered.

Daenerys turned from him and attempted to move away, “Jon…”

His arms pulled her tight to him. “Dany,” he responded.

Her hands gripped his hair, forcing his head up so she could look him in the eyes. Jon thought Daenerys Targaryen, flushed and disheveled from lovemaking was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but we’ll have tonight.”

Jon wanted to argue, but he wanted her more. He knew how stubborn Dany could be once her mind was made up, and he didn’t spend his last night with her fighting.

No, he had much better plans as he kissed her again, letting her roll him to his back once more. She kissed a path down his torso and Jon lost himself in her for the rest of the evening.

The next morning, Daenerys rolled away from Jon with a smile. Jon groaned, dragging her back into his arms. She allowed herself back in his embrace for a moment, kissing him. Jon wished to roll her beneath him once more, but she said, “The boat is set to leave at sunrise. I have to go now.”

“Stay,” he said, his eyes searching hers and only finding sadness.

She hugged him to her and whispered in his ear, echoing what she’d told him when they were children, “I must go, but no matter the distance that separates us, we are together.”

He brought his lips to hers once more. “Something to remember me by,” he said against her lips.

She smiled, “I could never forget you, Jon.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Throughout the War of the Dragon Kings, Jon wished he’d left with Daenerys. Every time they seemed to make some headway, a new disaster set them back. Neither side made any real progress after a year of hard fighting.

Jon didn’t like the way the Dornish choose to wage this war, buying a sellsword army rather than risking their own men. Even more infuriating was how Aegon pretty much let his kin do whatever they want. He knew this was angering the Tyrells and the Baratheons as well, even Jon Connington kept arguing with Aegon about it, as it made it seem like only one family will win even with them all fighting for him.

Jon tried to placate them with words, but neither family wanted to hear it.

Now with the latest news, he know the fighting wouldn’t be ending anytime soon, so they needed to be sure their alliances were solid. Aegon didn’t seem all that worried by the announcement. “So what? Robb Stark is marrying Myrcella Lannister. A wedding doesn’t affect my war. Don’t look so worried, Jon.”

Myrcella was not actually a Lannister but she was known as that since everyone knew who her real father was, as it was hard not to notice that Cersei only seemed to get pregnant when her brother Jaime visited. “You’re kidding, right?” They were alone in the king’s tent together, so Jon spoke to Aegon like a brother instead of a king. “This allies the Lannisters with the Starks. The richest family in the Seven Kingdoms just entered the war on the side of your enemy.”

Aegon dismissed his brother’s worries. “The Lannisters have been silently helping Viserys all along. You knew this. 

“Yes, which is why it’s significant that they are making their alliance public. During the Rebellion, the Lannisters didn’t take a side until a clear winner emerged. If they are siding with Viserys, it’s because they think he can win. They think he will win. Why do they think that, Aegon?”

Aegon stood, angry now. “I am the true king, Jon. The gods will see that I sit on my rightful throne.”

Jon inhaled deeply. “The Warrior may guide us, but he will not hand us any victory. Not when the opposite side makes the same prayers as we do.”

“Our prayers are more righteous. We will win.”

Jon knew the war needed to end, sooner rather than later, or no matter who won, the realm would be left in ruin. “Let me talk with Robb about terms. They have four kingdoms to our three now. We could let Viserys be King in the North. He’d hate it and so would the north men. It would be a punishment for them both.”

“I’m not splitting my kingdom.”

“It’s already cut in half by this war!”

“If you don’t like it, maybe you’d like to join our aunt across the sea. She was always your favorite anyway,” Aegon spat.

“Brother,” Jon began.

“Half-brother,” Aegon corrected. He glared at him now, reminding Jon of the vicious fights they got into as children. “You always wanted her, even when she was to be my bride. Everyone in the Red Keep saw how you lusted after your aunt, even our father.”

Jon glared back, remembering that he usually won those fights, remembering what Daenerys had told him before she sailed away. He could have taken the throne for himself with her by his side. “She was never yours.”

Jon left his brother’s tent in a fury. He found Ser Arthur waiting outside his own. He signaled for the knight to follow, as Jon went straight to the wine, consuming one glass in one go before speaking. “He listens to no one but Oberyn Martell, who will never sue for peace now that Lannisters are on the other side of this fight.” The Martells still thought the Lannisters cowards for not picking a side in the last war. Oberyn liked to call them the cowardly lions

Jon had liked Oberyn at first, but Jon’s patience was beginning to wear thin with the flamboyant nature of the prince. The stubborn man may be a great fighter, but he was not a brilliant commander. Robb was proving to be the best commander either side had despite his youth.

Jon missed his cousin dearly, wishing they weren’t on opposite sides of a battlefield.

Ser Dayne watched Jon carefully, used to listening to Jon’s complaints. Jon laughed bitterly, “Do you think it’s too late to sail to Essos?”

“It’s never too late,” Ser Dayne said with no humor. Jon finished his second glass of wine, pouring a third.

Jon pointed to a stack of letters in his tent. “Do you believe the tales they are saying about Dany?”

They were incredible stories, almost too incredible to be anything but stories. Daenerys had started by visiting and staying with families with ties to the Targaryens. She then moved to travel with the Dothraki for a time, impressing them with her riding skills. One of the khals was trying to take her as his khaleesi.

The letters had stopped after that, but Jon had heard rumors that Daenerys was seriously considering it. Jon hated how badly the thought made him want to abandon this war to sail across the sea to forbid it. He didn’t want Dany to be with anyone. Didn’t want to lose her to some horse lord.

Even though she wasn’t his, except for one night.

He sipped his wine more slowly now. Ser Arthur watched him carefully, before grunting. “You can’t put so much stock in rumors, boy.” Still boy, Jon thought. The knight would probably still call him that after his hair grayed. “They always said that I hated Ned Stark because he flirted with my sister at a party once.” Jon wanted to point out that neither man had ever really warmed to the other during their stay at Winterfell, but said nothing. “It was nonsense. I had eyes, I knew how beautiful my sister was. Barristan was half in love with her, for gods’ sake. A lot of men flirted with her at parties, and if it had played out differently, Ashara could have done worse than Ned Stark as far as husbands go.”

“Ser Barristan loved your sister?”

“Like I said, she was a beauty.” After a moment, the knight said, “He wouldn’t have been the worst husband either.”

Jon looked to the pile of letters again. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because your brooding always gets worse when you think about the princess.” Jon didn’t bother arguing with that, knowing it was true. “She’s quite beautiful. She’ll have plenty of suitors wherever she goes. If you want to protect her from them, we can leave today. But getting upset over it and doing nothing is a waste of everyone’s time.”

Jon sighed. He knew the knight was right, but he couldn’t abandon this fight. Not out of a jealousy he shouldn’t feel to begin with.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The raven went ignored by everyone but Jon, who kept trying to emphasize its importance to his brother. “The Night’s Watch calls for aid. Why are we not answering it?”

Oberyn scoffed, “The virgins and rapists can fend for themselves. We have our own war to fight.”

Aegon agreed. “The wall has stood for 1,000 years. It will continue stand. We can’t spare the men. They’ll be fine.”

Jon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The Wall is all that guards us from the horrors beyond it.”

Aegon placed a conceding hand on Jon’s shoulder. “You don’t still believe in the monsters beyond the Wall, do you, Jon?”

Jon shook his brother off and left the tent as laughter chased him out. Why did he ever join this war? He could be Essos right now with Daenerys.

Why had he ever walked away from her? Why had he ever let her walk away from him?

“Fuck this,” he said. He wouldn’t abandon the Wall. He alone wouldn’t be enough help, but one man was better than no men.

He put together a pack to leave but was interrupted by an unexpected visitor, Ser Davos Seaworth. Apparently Stannis Baratheon also believed the threat beyond the Wall to be credible and his cousin would be gathering what men he could and joining him.

Ser Arthur thought him mad but refused to be separated from him. They didn’t rally many banners, but it was better than nothing. It was better than the one man mission Jon had thought it would be.

His brother called him a fool chasing after imaginary monsters rather than dealing with the real one of their uncle. Their good-bye wasn’t a pleasant one.

Jon rode for the Wall, abandoning the War of Kings for the Great War.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Wall didn’t recognize any king, but Jon still found himself acting like one. The Lord Commander hated him. If they hadn’t been desperate, Jon was sure he would have been turned away. Stannis wanted Jon to take charge fully, but he didn’t want to completely undermine the Lord Commander if he could help it.

He tried to ignore how at least half of the Night’s Watch looked to him for commands instead of their actual Lord Commander. He tried to ignore how the fat young lord and pretty young boy followed him around, becoming his maester and steward without actually having those titles. All because he didn’t care that smart Sam was a coward or Satin had been a whore, and he treated them decently.

Jon remembered when he had wanted to join this brotherhood, but now he was glad he didn’t. Glad Daenerys stopped him. Faced with the truth that this place was just as corrupt and politically driven as anywhere was a bitter lesson. There were more criminals in their too depleted ranks than decent men. And so few of both.

They needed more men, and when Jon learned more about the enemy and the wildlings, the prince realized where he would get them from.

“We have to let the wildings in,” he argued to the uproar of all the crows. He ignored them. “If we leave them out beyond the Wall, they’ll just become wights and increase the Night King’s numbers. We can use them to fill our own ranks.”

“And what makes you think they will follow you?” The Lord Commander asked.

Jon stood a little taller. “Because I have the blood of kings. I am a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Because Winter is Coming and if they don’t I will give them Fire and Blood.”

Jon asked for volunteers and he got them. He was surprised by the number who supported him. He thought of his Targaryen name – was that why these men followed him? It didn’t matter why. They sailed to Hardhome to rescue what wildlings they could.

It was there Jon met the real enemy for the first time. It was there that he saw that his family’s battles were petty fights between children. It was there he received his first real taste of war, despite the years of battles that preceded it.

They lost too many men, women and children. Too many were left behind to fill out the Night King’s ranks. The Free Folk looked to him in a way they had never looked at a southern leader. He became the new King Beyond the Wall now that Mance Ryder had died.

Jon didn’t know what to think of his new title. He had been royalty his entire life, but he had never meant to be a king. He was just the other son. The lesser one. The third, unimportant, head of the dragon. The wolf that didn’t belong.

He ignored all of this when he returned from the battle, shaken and bloodied. Even Ser Arthur had no words. He had only managed to take out one White Walker with Dawn and Jon knew the knight saw this as a bitter disappointment, as the knight was used to besting all his opponents with ease.

This may have been the Sword of the Morning’s first real defeat, and it shook the man to his core.

Jon read the message from Essos that awaited his return. Daenerys had succeeded where her brother failed. She had three dragons. She was sacking Slaver’s Bay, breaking the chains of thousands of slaves, and has been named Queen of Meereen.

Jon realized for the first time that as much as he wished he could be there by her side and watch her accomplish these amazing things, there was a reason he had to stay and fight while she left. He was here to see the real war that awaited them all. She had to be there to awaken dragons and become a queen in her own right.

“Do you think if I sent her a message she would come?”

Ser Arthur looked at him as though he were slow. “Do you know nothing at all? She’ll always come for you, boy. You need but ask.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The wildings were officially under his protection, but Jon knew a lot of the crows didn’t like it. He knew many called him the king who thought he was the lord commander. He didn’t care what they said about him. He just needed them organized and focused on fighting the real enemy.

He sent messages to his family, begging for help. Viserys didn’t respond to the raven he’d sent him. Aegon merely told him he couldn’t spare the men and asked him to return to his brother’s cause. When Jon sent a message back refusing and asking for help again, his brother responded by branding him a traitor in open rebellion by declaring himself a king and that once he finished dealing with their uncle, he’d be coming after him.

Jon felt betrayed, but remembered Daenerys’ warning about Aegon all those years ago.

Daenerys gave no reply, but Jon had no way of knowing if she’d even received it yet. Their messages were always infrequent, mostly due to the distance between them and the fact there was no reliable way to exchange the words across the sea. He also knew she might not be able to return to Westeros immediately even if she did get his message. She had armies too now. Armies she would have to bring with her across the sea. He was still tempted to send another message.

His responsibilities should have only been focused on the Great War, but politics continued to haunt him, even here. Stannis kept pestering Jon to marry Val to secure his title as King Beyond the Wall. Jon kept explaining to his unofficial Hand that the Free Folk don’t work that way. They don’t have princesses. Marrying Val would gain him nothing.

Stannis didn’t see the problem, didn’t understand why Jon kept refusing. Jon understood the confusion. He’d admired Val more than once. She was fierce and beautiful, and Jon couldn’t deny he hadn’t wanted her in the basest of ways.

But she was not Daenerys.

His one and only kingsguard, Ser Arthur, only said one thing on the matter, “Pining after a woman half a world away isn’t helping anyone. If you’re going to be a king, you need start acting like one.”

Jon responded, “Kings don’t take orders from their knights.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon once read that tragedy never comes alone. He believed it true now.

First, the crows who had resented him for so long, hated all of the change he brought with him to the Wall, hated his authority over them despite the fact he had no more than blood to recommend his title of king, tried to kill him.

They lured him to the courtyard at night. He had meant to go alone, but Ser Dayne had followed without Jon’s knowledge.

The knight saved his live, taking a blade to the heart meant for Jon. The man who’d stayed by Jon’s side his entire life, died in Jon’s arms. Ser Arthur’s last request was to give Jon his family sword, Dawn.

Jon tried to refuse it. He saw Ser Davos across the way and yelled at him to find the maester. Ser Dayne insisted, “Dawn only belongs to the greatest warriors. You deserve it, boy. Take it. Bring Dawn against this Night King. You have no Valyrian steel sword of your own. The heart of star works just as well.”

Jon cried over his friend. He burned the body beyond the Wall. Then he executed the remaining men who’d attempted to betray him. They were the first men he killed with Dawn. He thought it fitting.

Not long after he received two messages, both carried terrible news. One told him that the civil war that had split the realm for five years finally ended. Aegon, Rhaenys and the rest of their families were killed in burst of wildfire, betrayed by their own bannermen, who tired of war they were losing and longed for peace at any price. Jon could barely stand to read how Rhaenys’ children – who looked nothing Renly, rumor had it that other men joined both princess and lord in their bed – were displayed at the feet of the new king. That Viserys smiled at the sight of his dead kin.

The other note was from King Viserys, which demanded that Jon come to the Red Keep to bend the knee to his new king.

The only reason Jon saw to ever see his uncle again would be to kill him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was Robb Stark’s words that finally drew Jon Targaryen from the Wall and his war. He told him that as first prince and heir, Jon would inherit Dragonstone. A keep that housed enough dragonglass for Jon to wage real war against the wights. They were running low on weapons that could kill the army of the dead.

So Jon made the journey to see his uncle, leaving Stannis Baratheon and his men at Dragonstone to begin mining. Ser Davos insisted on joining Jon on his journey to the Red Keep. “You don’t need a knight, I’ve seen you fight enough to know that. You may need a smuggler to get you out of that hellhole before all is said and done though.”

Jon saw the wisdom of the Onion Knight’s words. He entered the throne room of his father. Viserys sat on the monstrous throne made of swords, looking like a speck of gold atop a pile of iron. On his right was Robb Stark and his left stood Tywin Lannister.

Jon thought either man looked more a king and would probably be better suited to the role than his nasty uncle. He stood before his uncle, remembering how bloodied the servants that left Viserys’ chambers had been. How angry it had made Jon to see. He had threatened his uncle to force him to stop, but Jon never knew if it actually had or if Viserys merely learned to hide it better.

The realm would suffer greatly under this king, perhaps more so than the Mad King. Jon resolved that he would act sooner than his own father had if it came to that.

“Dear nephew,” Viserys’ voice carried and echoed in the cavern of the room. “It pleases me to see you well.”

Jon knew that was a lie. The king would be far more pleased if Jon had been in the explosion that killed the rest of their family. “I am not well, uncle. I fight the army of the dead. I need your help to do it.”

There was mummer around him, Jon guessed he would branded a madman for his words. He doesn’t care. Let them all think the Targaryen madness had infected him, he just needed them to help.

Viserys’ cruel smile spread across his face. “You’re still on about the living dead men?”

“Yes,” Jon locked eyes with his cousin, knowing he might be the one man who’d believe him. “As I’ve been saying for years, your war doesn’t matter. Only the Battle for the Dawn and stopping the Long Night matters.”

“Madness,” Viserys dismissed. Jon bit his tongue on his uncle calling anyone mad.

“Robb, you know me. I’m not mad or a liar. The dead are coming for us all. I’ve seen it. The North will be the first at risk if the Wall falls.”

Lord Stark hesitated. Jon noticed how the boy he once knew was gone. Lord Stark looked weary, older than his years and grizzled by battle. Even though his side had won, Robb looked like he had lost the war. “Jon, the Long Night and the White Walkers, it is just a story. Something made up by Septas to frighten children.”

Jon held back his frustration, losing his temper would only lend credence that he was mad. “I have seen them. The men of the Night’s Watch have seen them. The Free Folk have seen them.”

“Ah yes,” Tywin Lannister spoke for the first time. “These are the people you rule now, correct, King Beyond the Wall?”

Tywin said it with such scorn it caused light laughter from the rest of the court. Jon knew being dismissed as a fool would be worse than seen as a madman. “I must be their king, crows and the Free Folk need to fight united against our common enemy. It’s the only way.” Jon looked to his uncle again.

He saw it then, the cruel gleam in Viserys’ violet eyes that told Jon he would never leave here alive. He had offended his uncle with his title. Jon attempted to accept his fate even before the words were said. “Arrest him.”

Robb tried to intervene, knowing what the arrest would lead to. “Let him take the black. He’s at the wall anyway. He’s your family, your grace.”

“He fought against me and he’s a threat to my rule, calling himself a king. We can’t have another war. The small people have suffered enough.”

Jon nearly barked out a laugh at that. Viserys had no care for the common folk, never did. But he merely let the gold cloaks take him to the dungeons below.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In his cell, Jon thought on his life. What could have he done differently? How could he have better fought for the Seven Kingdoms and prepared them for the Great War? How could he have stopped the dead enemy coming for them all?

Against his will, his thoughts kept circling back to Daenerys. He should have been honest with his father all those years ago – told him that he wanted to marry Dany. It had always been her. He’d loved her his entire life and they’d only shared one night together.

What a waste. His entire life had amounted to nothing. He hadn’t fulfilled his duty. He hadn’t pursued his love. His life was a failure in every way.

His cell door opened and his cousin, Robb Stark, stepped in. Jon saw how Robb’s shoulders hung now, as though he carried a burden far beyond his means to bare. Robb sat across from him. Jon didn’t bother moving.

Despite his Tully looks, Jon had always thought that Robb looked more his brother than Aegon ever had. He’d certainly seen and connected with Robb as a brother more than he ever had with his true one. Family loyalty alone kept him at Aegon’s side during the war. He had never wanted to fight against Robb and the Starks.

“How’s Arya?” Jon asked, not wanting to speak of his impending death just yet.

Robb smiled, “She’s good. She almost wields a sword better than me now because of the war.”

Jon nodded. The thought saddened him a bit. Not that Arya had become the warrior she’d always wanted to be, but that she’d been forced into the role as a child.

Robb, a true north man, ended the small talk at that, cutting straight to the point, “Bend the knee, and perhaps he’ll let you take the black. You’re at the Wall anyway, Jon.”

“It doesn’t matter, Robb. My life doesn’t matter. The battle with the Night King and his army is all that matters. The realm cannot be unprotected. If Viserys won’t listen, then please, Robb, call your bannermen. March north before it’s too late.”

Robb sighed, “My bannermen are tired of war. I’m tired of war, Jon. Do you know I have a son? I’ve only ever seen him once.”

“How is your wife?”

“She pretty, and nice, and I like her, for a Lannister. I may even grow to love her if I ever manage to spend any significant time with her.”

“You fathered a child on her.”

Robb sighed again. “Like I said, she’s pretty. It wasn’t a burden for either of us. We just…we haven’t talked much. I don’t really know her.” He paused. “How come you never married?”

Jon said something he’d never said aloud, “Because I’ve only ever wanted to marry one person, and I was too craven to just ask for what I wanted.”

“Who was she?”

Jon was surprised Robb didn’t know. It wasn’t a secret and had been a persistent rumor at court. But then, what would Robb Stark know of court secrets? His time at Winterfell wasn’t full of the rumors and intrigue of the Red Keep, it was why Jon valued it so much. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Your aunt?” Jon tried to ignore the judgement he heard in Robb’s tone. “She’s said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve only ever caught distance glances of her, but she seemed lovely from afar.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed. “Though lovely from afar is not how I would describe her.”

Robb smiled a bit and then moved to leave, but he hesitated. “Jon, the Spider escaped his execution in exchange for information.”

Jon wasn’t surprised. Varys would out live them all, hiding in corners, spinning his webs. “And what did he tell you?”

“That Daenerys Targaryen sails west with 100,000 Dothraki, 10,000 Unsullied and three dragons.” Jon’s breath stopped. Daenerys was returning home. His eyes shut. She was returning and he would miss it. Damn the gods and their cruel jokes. Robb confirmed it, “Viserys means to execute you before she arrives.”

Jon was left in the dark cell with only his thoughts for company.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jon’s steps to the executioner’s block were heavy. He knew Ser Davos was out there somewhere attempting to free him, smuggle him out and back to Dragonstone, but he hoped the Onion Knight just got himself out. It was too late for Jon now.

He only wished he had gotten to see Dany one last time.

Jon stood next to the royal executioner, waiting for the final sentence of death from the king. He looked out at the common people watching him. He found no sympathy.

Why would he? He had been the second son, the spare heir, unimportant his entire life, who’d clearly fell to the Targaryen madness following his brother losing the War of Kings.

Jon found no pleasure in the fact that he would be proven right eventually.

Viserys looked down from his golden chair, a sneer on his face, “Aegon Targaryen, for the crime of treason and rebellion against your king, I sentence you to death.”

Jon was forced to his knees. He bowed his head, waiting for the blade to drop down

The sky darkened for a moment, the sun blocked out. Suspicions immediately rose from the common folk. Cries of “An ill omen, the gods must favor the prince. Don’t kill him!” filled the square. Jon didn’t notice, he knew that Viserys didn’t really follow the gods beyond a token belief to pacify some of the more faithful subjects. He knew the death blow would still come.

Until the shadow from above moved, causing all to look up. This was no eclipse of the sun from the gods, no the black shape obstructing the sun was moving. A closer look showed that the shape was that of a dragon.

Jon had seen many impossible things in his life, but this was the most unbelievable of them all. Especially when the dragon lowered and he could see the tiny silver-haired queen riding the giant beast. The dragon roared, causing the common folk to flee or bow to the threat, to the Targaryen dragonrider.

Jon just stared. How had she done this?

He saw Ser Davos drop down behind the Dragon Queen, rushing off to relieve his stomach of its contents. The sight puzzled Jon. How had the Onion Knight managed to find her and bring her here?

Daenerys Stormborn walked up to her brother, looking every inch a queen. She said in her sweetest voice, a false smile playing across her lips, “Hello dear brother.” Her eyes connected with Jon’s for a moment. “What do you think you’re doing to our sweet nephew?”

“I am a king, lovely sister. I can do whatever I want.”

“Really? I am the queen of Meereen and what used to be Slaver’s Bay. I have armies and three large dragons.” She continued to walk towards Viserys.”And I’ve decided that you, dear brother, are sitting in my chair.”

An edge of viciousness entered her tone at her last words. Viserys’ faced settled into hatred and he commanded, “Traitor! Bring me her head as well.”

The gold cloaks moved towards her, but her great black dragon moved to protect her. The knight who pointed his sword at her and those near him were lost to a burst of dragonfire. This made the rest of the men lay down their weapons. Daenerys now stood directly in front of her brother. “Rhaegar was wrong, Viserys. His sons weren’t Aegon the Conqueror reborn. I am.”

Jon watched as Viserys lost his temper. “Kill her! Kill her now! Your king commands you.”

Daenerys’ cool tone didn’t lift. She looked past Viserys to Robb and Tywin. “Lord Stark, Lord Lannister, think carefully on your next move. My armies are only two days away from landing.” Two screeches overhead drew everyone’s attention to the other two dragons circling above. “Who do you really think will win this fight? Whose side will benefit your family’s interests more?”

Tywin Lannister only took a moment to make the calculation before he stepped forward and bowed to Daenerys, “My queen.”

Robb hesitated, his honor keeping him from switching sides so easily. Viserys still couldn’t abide by this slight delay and screeched, “Kill her, dog!”

Robb’s face froze over into a cold hatred. “I am not your dog.” He joined Tywin, bowing before Daenerys as well. “Your grace.”

Daenerys looked to the executioner behind Jon, “Let him go,” she commanded. Her gaze returned to Viserys. “Seize him.”

The gold cloaks moved to grab the man who’d commanded them only moments before. Viserys continued to rant and rave, but he was ignored, taken away to the dungeons that contained Jon before. Jon carefully made his way to Dany. She sat on the throne now, looking out over her subjects with a cool, queenly gaze Jon had never seen on her before.

The people kneeled before her, and a cry rang out, “All hail, Queen Daenerys!”

Jon alone didn’t bow. He still couldn’t believe she was really here, still couldn’t believe what had happened. He stared at her, afraid if he took his eyes off her, she would disappear like the vision she surely must be.

“Dany, what have you done? What is this? What has happened?” Jon felt like his questions weren’t enough. They paled in comparison of the awesomeness he’d just witnessed from the girl, the woman, he’d loved his entire life.

She smiled at him, and Jon was happy to see the Dany he knew still rested inside this other-worldly queen. “Oh Jon, my king, so much. So much has happened.”

Not thinking beyond the fact he’d almost died and she had saved him, Jon pulled Dany to her feet, out of her throne to kiss her desperately.

She laughed in response, kissing him back just as wildly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Daenerys held court to let the lords of the land kneel to her and pledge their fealty; Jon stood at her side. He felt foolish and useless next to her, but she had insisted, “You are my king. They are kneeling to you as well.”

Five years, Jon thought. Five years his brother and his uncle fought over the throne, tearing the kingdom apart, and Dany flew in and was declared queen within the afternoon. Even Aegon the Conqueror couldn’t boast such a thing. Though it was probably the memory of Aegon and what he’d done with his dragons that surely caused this easy victory.

Not that Jon didn’t know that plenty of lords and lands would resist her and her rule. He knew this fight wasn’t over just yet, but it was close enough. She sat on the throne. She had fresh armies to battle any that opposed her.

She had dragons to burn keeps to the ground if anyone decided to make a stand. Jon’s eyes kept drifting to her, amazed by her.

It was only after supper, when they were alone in her chambers that Jon got the full story. Daenerys told him everything about what happened in Essos. He was fascinated by all of it. The foreign lands, the dragons, the battles, he wished he’d been beside her to witness it himself.

In turn, he told her what had happened to him. The beginning of the war, going to the Wall, the battle of Hardhome, and the army of the dead that was coming for them all.

Daenerys nodded solemnly. “We will defeat them. We will beat them back together. As soon as my armies land, they will travel north.”

Jon was shocked, “You believe me, just like that?”

She seemed confused, “Of course, Jon. Did you think I would not believe you? Did you think I would not save you? That I would turn my back on you in your time of need?” She looked into his eyes, violet meeting grey. “Do you know me at all?”

“You fled when war tore apart our family,” Jon pointed out. “I could have died in that war.”

Dany nodded sadly and took his hands into hers. “I know, and I am glad you lived. I didn’t know what else to do. Perhaps I was afraid, but I won’t run now. I am with you now, always. We will defeat this Night King. We will do it together. You have my word.”

Jon could feel the relief wash over him. For the first time since he’d went to the Wall he felt hope. He leaned forward, kissing her. They lost themselves for a moment. Before Jon pulled back and confessed, “I love you, Dany.”

She smiled, “I knew that years ago. Took you long enough to figure it out. Why do you think I stayed single for you?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m a fool.”

She nodded, embarrassing him. “We could have been married years ago. I had my first womanly bloom at 13.”

Jon ducked his head, “You’ll marry me now?”

Daenerys’ eyes danced. “Before we leave King’s Landing would work best, I think. We should rule together going into this fight.” She leaned forward to finish in a husky whisper, “Plus, I have no intention of not having you every night, and I would hate for our first child to be a bastard.”

He picked her up to sit astride his lap, causing her to squeal in delight. “Why don’t we get started on our first kid now?”

She smiled and kissed him again. Their tongues tangled and their clothes were pushed aside as Dany lifted just enough to position herself above him.

Then she held herself there, brushing against his tip, teasing. Jon growled in frustration. He’d been waiting to have her again for years. He’d missed her. He’d wanted her.

He always would want her. It had always been her. His future wife.

He buried himself in her, home again.


	2. The Too Late Princess

**** Daenerys spent most of her life thus far watching. She watched her eldest brother be king to the Seven Kingdoms. She watched her other brother grow from a caring young man to embittered over his nephews’ place in succession before him. She watched Aegon be groomed for the throne by the Hand Jon Connington. She watched the different factions in the Red Keep maneuver and plot for power.

Daenerys watched everything, but she did very little. As a princess, not much was expected from her but to someday marry a lord for her family and give him sons. She had already disappointed the realm as far as that was concerned as Viserys had told her once.

“What do you mean?” she’d asked him.

“You should have been Rhaegar’s bride. Instead, he had to marry a Martell then he damn near destroyed our family chasing after that Stark girl. Do you think he would have done that if you’d been born in time?”

Daenerys hadn’t had a response to Viserys that day and she still didn’t know how she felt about it. In one sense, she knew Viserys was right. Rhaegar would have married her if she’d been of an age, but now it seemed she’d be more likely to marry one of his sons.

She knew which son she would pick if she had any kind of a say in such matters.

But in another sense, she often doubted if Rhaegar wouldn’t have run off with Lyanna Stark even if he’d been married to her. She supposed it didn’t matter in the end. She’d been born late, and she hadn’t married Rhaegar.

Her septa’s voice broke through her thoughts, “Daenerys Targaryen, are you even listening to me?”

Daenerys thought about answering with an honest no, but instead she asked a question that had been on her mind for a while now, “Why can’t Jon and I take lessons together? He’s not even a year older than me.”

The septa’s face turned sour. “Because he is a prince and you a princess. You have different lessons to learn.”

It didn’t make much sense to Daenerys. They both had to learn the histories of the noble houses of Westeros, including their own. They both had to learn the geography of the known world. They both had to learn their mother tongue of Valyrian. The only real difference in their educations, as far as Daenerys saw, was that he learned swordwork while she practiced needlepoint.

And she missed Jon. She hardly got to see him anymore, not even at night since Elia had forbid them from sleeping together. Daenerys had nearly told her that she had no authority over her but stopped at Jon’s look. She missed the days they spent playing together, carefree in the Red Keep. Now everything was about duty, expectations and reputations, her lessons were mostly on how she should act.

It all bored Daenerys; she wanted her best friend back. Learning about their Targaryen ancestors had made her determined that she would marry Jon. Then no one could keep them apart. He was a prince after all that was even better than marrying a lord.

She just had to get Jon to ask Rhaegar to make it so. Jon could be stubborn she knew and had trouble asking for anything, so that would be the most difficult part of her plan. But she could be stubborn too. She would get her way on this matter.

Daenerys looked out the window again, ignoring whatever her septa was going on about. It was never important. She wondered where Jon was at this moment. Would he be in his own lessons? Did princes actually get different lessons than princesses? If so, what was he learning? Was it more interesting than proper feast etiquette throughout the Seven Kingdoms?

“If her majesty is so bored, perhaps she would rather leave?”

Daenerys grinned. “Okay.” And Daenerys left, knowing her septa had been asking sarcastically but also knowing that a servant couldn’t very well order a princess back. Daenerys smiled and danced around, happy to be free early. Her dancing lessons were the only ones she enjoyed. Partially because Jon often joined her, as they both needed partners to learn properly and it was natural to pair them together.

He was a dismal dancer. She’d seen him practice enough with Ser Dayne to know he had a natural grace and could move his body well, but take the sword out of his hand and it was like taking all his ability to control his muscles. It was always great to see Jon not excel at something naturally considering he usually showed a natural aptitude for everything he tried.

Daenerys both loved and hated that about Jon.

She made her way to where Jon was probably practicing his swordwork. It’s all he seemed to do these days. Daenerys often thought her lessons boring, but swordwork seemed both boring and tiring. She didn’t understand the appeal. Jon loved it, but she only listened politely when he talked about it with her.

She found him quickly but ducked behind a pillar. She loved surprising and scaring him. He was so cute when he yelped like a pup. She just needed to wait for the right moment to pop out. She couldn’t do it when he was in the middle of fighting. She’d done that once, and he’d nearly stabbed her out of instinct. 

It had horrified him. Not that it would have killed her. He’d only been using a practice sword. But Jon didn’t let that act as an excuse. He was so prone to self-sacrificing. It was another aspect of Jon that Daenerys found both enduring and infuriating.

She waited. The clash of dull steel echoed in the room. Daenerys went over the list of Targaryen kings she’d been memorising lately. Aegon I, Aenys I, Maegor I, Jaehaerys I, Viserys I...

“Do you think I’m ready for Ser Rodrik?” Jon asked, breathing hard.

Daenerys’ muscles tensed, the time to jump out would be soon.

“Ready for him? You’ll probably end up teaching him a few things, boy. Your cousins will look to you for lessons.” Ser Dayne answered.

The conversation confused Daenerys. Who was Ser Rodrik? Why were they talking about Jon’s cousins? She relaxed again, too confused to focus on her plan of surprise.

“When do we leave for Winterfell? I can’t wait to get there. How many years will I live there?” 

An involuntary gasp escaped from Daenerys. She knew that it would have alerted them to her presence. She even heard Ser Dayne take out his real sword, but she didn’t care.

She fled from the room. She tried to stop the tears, but she couldn’t help it.

Jon was leaving. He was leaving her. She ran to the garden, climbing up the tree she and Jon spent so much time under. She ruined her pretty dress in the process, but she didn’t care. Her tears were fat and her breathing jagged.

She didn’t know how long she was alone, but eventually she looked down and saw Jon there, sitting against the trunk. She brushed her tears away, a bit embarrassed by her emotions. Such a girly thing to do, she thought. I am blood of the dragon. Dragons don’t cry.

She climbed down carefully and sat next to Jon. Neither of them said anything for a moment. 

Then Daenerys asked, in a small voice, “You’re leaving me?”

“I’ll come back,” Jon promised. “It’s how it’s done, Dany. You know that. Just like Viserys went to Casterly Rock and Aegon is in Dorne. I’ll go to Winterfell a boy and return a man.”

But I wanted to see you go from boy to man, I wanted to be involved, Dany thought. She felt like she was being left behind. Everyone else got to leave and go on adventures, while she sat in King’s Landing and watched her life pass by. But none of that was Jon’s fault, and she knew he would worry even without her piling on her problems. So she put on a false smile and said, “You’ve been to Winterfell before. Tell me all about it.”

Jon smiled truly and talked animatedly about Winterfell – its godswood and weirwood tree, its crypts where his mother laid, its springs, and most of all, his family there. It broke her heart to see Jon so excited about the other side of his family and leaving her, but she hid it as best she could. It was rare for Jon to be excited and happy, and Daenerys refused to dampen it for him with her own jealousy and selfishness. Bad enough he already listened to her cry about it. Jon was half-Stark after all; it made sense that he connected with that side. She just hoped he didn’t lose his Targaryen side in the process.

It made her think of Rhaenys, who seemed more Dornish than Targaryen these days. From what she’d heard of Aegon, he was becoming the same. Even Viserys had connected with the Lannisters to the point where he spent more time with them than his own royal family.

She felt alone in her family. She wasn’t the last Targaryen, but only she and Rhaegar seemed fully Targaryen. And Rhaegar’s duties kept him from his sister more often than not. When he did have spare time, he usually chose to spend it with his children. 

Daenerys understood. She understood her family and their feelings. Even liked that they had other people to depend on, but where did it leave her? Alone. Jon had been the only one who ever took that feeling away, and he was leaving her.

“Dany?” Jon’s worried voice broke through her thoughts.

Daenerys’ eyes darted. She must have let her melancholy show on her face. She smiled, slipping on a mask of happiness for Jon’s benefit. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Daenerys tucked herself under Jon’s arm, surprising him though he didn’t pull away. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he confessed.

Daenerys hugged her favorite prince. Jon leaned over and whispered, “Maybe I can steal you away with me.”

Daenerys smiled. Leave it to Jon to make her smile at her saddest. “Oh?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jon said. “I’ll get a big trunk and put some air holes in it. Then you can hide away until we get to Winterfell. Then I’ll keep you in my room, either under my bed or in my closet.”

Daenerys laughed and played along, “What about food and drink?”

“I’ll sneak you stuff from the dining hall and kitchens.”

“What of my education?”

“I’ll bring you books from Winterfell’s library.”

“And what if we’re caught? It would be improper for a princess to be in a man’s room. My reputation would be ruined.”

“I’d marry you,” Jon answered without thinking. It sobered them both up, ending their game. Jon looked away and removed his arm. “I really am going to miss you, Dany.”

Daenerys took Jon’s hand, not letting him leave or move away from her. “I’m really going to miss you too, Jon.”

They sat there together for as long as they could.

 

* * *

 

With Jon gone, it was like someone had sucked all of the joy out of King’s Landing. Daenerys started noticing things she hadn’t before, like how many lords bowed at her but with hatred in their eyes. How servants flinched anytime she raised her voice. The way she was never actually alone; there was always someone lurking in the dark corners of the Red Keep, men, women and children she would come to learn were paid to spy.

Jon had given her life a carefree fun she hadn’t thought to appreciate until it was gone. And without him to distract her, Daenerys was forced to see the great game that surrounded her. One she had no desire to play but knew she would have to eventually.

She managed to stay on the outskirts until Aegon began asking about his bride. It had mostly come from curiosity and his enthusiasm for the future. When he’d returned from Dorne, after squiring under Oberyn Martell, Aegon had traveled the world. He had returned to court with so many ideas, changes he would make Westeros that he’d seen in foreign lands. His eyes were so focused on the future, Daenerys was pretty sure she was the only one to notice King Rhaegar’s uncomfortable stance at his son’s open discussion of what would happen when he died.

But Rhaegar kept his piece, until Aegon asked, “When am I to be wed? Who am I marrying? Is it Rhaenys? Or Daenerys?”

Rhaegar’s eyes met his son’s. “No. We are going to abandon that practice. The Faith of the Seven doesn’t allow incest and neither should we.”

Daenerys felt her heart stop at such an announcement. No. No, she wanted to marry Jon. It wasn’t fair. Targaryens had been doing it for centuries. She thought of her grandparents Jaehaerys and Shaera. Their king had told them they would marry people from other families, but they’d ignored him, falling in love with each other and marrying regardless of the king’s wishes.

Granted, that hadn’t ended well. Jaehaerys had died young. But Daenerys would prefer that to being married to some lord she’d never met. She just had to convince Jon to act without his father’s permission. It wouldn’t be an easy task.

Aegon hadn’t seemed to react to his father’s words, but in the coming weeks, Daenerys noticed Aegon following her more and more. He seemed to constantly want to spend time with her, which wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Aegon expected Daenerys to fawn over him the same way the ladies of the court did. She gave him the respect due to a prince, but he was her nephew. She wouldn’t act as though he was the greatest man ever to walk the earth.

This frustrated Aegon to no end. “You are to be my wife, Dany. You should show me the proper kind of love.”

“No, I’m not,” Daenerys corrected.

Aegon’s temper flared at this, and Daenerys saw that Aegon still had a little Targaryen left in him. “I will be king and you will be my queen.” His eyes raked over her body. “My perfect, pretty Targaryen wife, as is my right as king.”

Daenerys stiffened. She knew Aegon could order such a thing once he took the throne. Even if Rhaegar married Aegon off to someone else first, Aegon could take her as a second wife. It had been done before. And Aegon didn’t know her, didn’t care to really know her either, he only saw her as a pretty prize. That was how all men saw her.

Except Jon. She missed him in that moment. Not that he would have been able to do anything to stop his brother. Jon was almost as powerless as her.

Daenerys had never realized it before, but she would not let it stay that way. She would gain power, so that no one could threaten her. Or Jon. She would play the great game. For both their sakes, she would play the game and she would do it well enough to keep them both from being crushed under the wheel that ran the Seven Kingdoms. She would win.

Aegon, not knowing her thoughts, nor caring, had seemed to think that Daenerys was accepting her fate as his wife. He smiled slightly, looking like the dashing young man, the perfect prince everyone saw him as. He leaned forward to kiss the joint at the back of her jaw and whispered into her ear, “I learned many things from Uncle Oberyn. I will give you such pleasure on our wedding night and after, Dany. I can make it good for you. So good.”

Such words horrified Daenerys. She knew what her wifely duties would entail, but no one dared to speak about them so openly. She blushed and stammered, inwardly cursing herself for such silliness. Hadn’t she just sworn to play the game? Innocent little girls were crushed.

Aegon noticed, unimpressed. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Maybe I’m wasting my time on a virgin like you. Rhaenys understands the way of things. The Dornish way.”

“We don’t live in Dorne,” Daenerys pointed out.

“No, but the other Six Kingdoms could learn a lot from Dorne. There are so many old-fashioned rules about love and sex and bastards. It’s ridiculous.”

Daenerys said nothing in response, but she thought about how dangerous it would be for Aegon to make too many changes so quickly into his reign. The previous Aegon had tried the same and many of the lords still hated him for his attempted reforms.

Daenerys had thought most of Aegon’s reforms would have bettered the realm, at the very least they would have given the small folk better lives. She thought it too bad he hadn’t been able to see them through.

“Maybe I shouldn’t marry you. Jon can have you,” Aegon smiled cruelly. “Jon and you can be prudes together. Instead of the passion of dragons, you can make love like cold fish. One boring position for the rest of your lives combined with tepid kisses.”

Daenerys could feel her temper struggling to break through. How dare he speak of Jon like that. Jon was worth 10 of his brother. Jon was the best man in all the Seven Kingdoms. But still, she kept her tongue.

“And when you tire of him, I will welcome you into my bed. You can be my mistress, Dany.”

The insult was too far. “I would be happy to marry Jon. He was always the better Aegon.”

Aegon’s fury was immediate. Daenerys guessed no one had ever said such a thing to him. Everyone saw him as the golden prince, and Jon as the mere backup, at best. Only she would value his brother over him. Aegon grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. He growled, “I will be king, Daenerys. And you will be mine to use and do with as I please.”

Daenerys took a step back, removing her arm from his tight grasp violently. “But you’re not king yet, Aegon.”

Impotent with rage, Aegon roared before leaving her. Daenerys watched him go. She knew she should fear his wrath. Knew that this was far from over. He would forget this and go back to courting her, more determined than ever. Aegon had always gotten everything he ever wanted; he would see no reason to change that now.

Daenerys thoughts’ turned to the other Aegon Targaryen, Jon. What was he doing right now? She knew from his letters how much he was enjoying his time at Winterfell. But she wanted him here with her.

But she would not show such weakness. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone watching her, a small child. No. She would never again be the innocent, naïve Princess Daenerys. The sweet girl she had been must die to make room for the fierce woman she would become. She was a dragon. It was time to unfurl her wings and fly.

And the first step would be finding another wife for Aegon. A woman who would make him forget about her.

 

* * *

 

Slowly, Daenerys began to gather information and build her network of influence in King’s Landing. It was easier to do than she had thought. She began to host afternoon tea for all the ladies in court, which lead to rich gossip. 

It was a trick she’d gotten from Margaery Tyrell, who was becoming a fast friend. Daenerys noticed how pretty the young woman was and how men’s eyes lingered on her, almost as much as they did on her own figure. She could use that, she thought.

She learned about her brother’s Small Council, arguably the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms, behind only Rhaegar. And the only reason there could be argument was that some might put the Small Council members before the King. 

Jon Connington, Rhaegar’s good friend, served as Hand. He was competent enough though many found him lacking when they compared him to his predecessor, Tywin Lannister. But when Lord Lannister had offered his services after the rebellion, Rhaegar had refused, telling him that he wanted to show the people that he would be a different king than his father and having the same Small Council wouldn’t show that message.

Daenerys wondered if it was a wise move. Tywin Lannister was a powerful man, one of the most powerful in Westeros. He would make a terrible enemy. Rhaegar had agreed to foster Viserys with the Lannisters to assuage the family’s hurt pride, but based on how her brother was acting upon his return, Daenerys thought it had just made everything worse. The Lannisters were a problem, and a tricky one at that. They couldn’t be trusted, but they couldn’t be alienated either. They needed to have power, but couldn’t be given too much.

Daenerys longed to know Rhaegar’s thoughts on the matter. She assumed her brother was far more informed on such things. He’d been raised to be a king after all. 

Placing Jon Connington as his Hand had been a fairly neutral move. It wasn’t popular since many thought Connington had botched his position during the war, but it wasn’t unpopular enough to cause any actual problems. Daenerys was shocked to learn of the rumor about him, which the woman who whispered it to her assured her was known fact, that the man was in love with her brother.

Did men love other men in such a way? Daenerys shed some more of her innocence as she learned such things were perversions in some places and discrete practices in others. She also learned that the king himself was probably the only one in court who didn’t know about it.

Lord Varys was only one of two carryovers from Aerys’ council, mostly because while nobody liked the Spider, no one could deny his skill as Lord of Whispers. The man seemed to know everything and had spies everywhere. Daenerys began to follow and watch him, but was found out almost immediately. So she talked with him honestly. 

He seemed amused by her. They began to visit with each other frequently. Daenerys knew from his riddling nature that Varys could never be trusted, but she also knew he was a better man than most gave the eunuch credit for. She began to dismiss her guards so they could talk openly.

His eyebrow had raised the first time she had done this. “Are you sure that is wise, little princess?”

“You can’t kill me. Too many know where I am and your head would find itself under an executioner’s blade too quickly.” Daenerys looked at the strange book lying in front of the Spider, which was about some religion of fire. “And it’s not like you can rape me.”

She thought the answer produced a genuine smile from the man, but she could never be sure of anything with him.

The other carryover was Grand Maester Pycelle, who’d served for so long that it was hard to imagine any other in his role. He was an old man who’d been deemed loyal enough to keep. His opinions seemed to be the most ignored at the meetings, Daenerys gathered.  

Daenerys wondered if people were legitimately fooled by the Maester’s infirm act or if it was one of those things where everyone knew about it but no one ever talked about it.

The Master of Ships was Stannis Batherathon, which was supposed to signal the end of the rebellion and show Rhaegar’s generosity to the men who’d been his enemy. The man was stern and scary, but Daenerys found there was no reason to fear treason from the man. He could be trusted to act how he saw as honorably, at all times. 

The Master of Law was Kevan Lannister. Rhaegar knew he had to give the Lannisters something, but he didn’t want to insult Tywin with a lesser position than Hand. So he picked the younger brother for a position on the Small Council. By all accounts, he was quite good in his role, possibly as good as his brother had been at being Hand. Against her better judgement, Daenerys liked the man. 

She liked him even more when his family visited, his lovely wife and their boy Lancel. They were both nice, if a bit empty headed. Between Kevan and Jaime, Daenerys began to question the lions’ fearsome reputation.

Until Tywin Lannister visited the Red Keep.

His very presence frightened Daenerys. He was such a stern and imposing man. She had heard rumors that many had mistaken this man rather than her father as king upon first meeting and she could believe it. Strange, she thought, that this man was father to the charming kingsguard, Jaime. The knight who’d flirted with her before she even knew what flirting was, until Rhaegar caught him and chided him for it. It had been gentle, as Rhaegar he and Jaime were close. The king often claimed Jaime had helped put the crown on his head.

Cersei mooned after Rhaegar, in a way Daenerys didn’t understand. Though the woman was cruel in response to any attempts of friendship, so Daenerys stopped trying. Her eldest was a nasty little beast named Joffrey. One private conversation with him was enough to compel her to get a promise from Rhagear that she would never marry a Lannister. She knew her eldest brother would keep his promises, but she also knew that his promises would mean nothing to Viserys or Aegon.

Daenerys wondered what game the Lannisters were playing with Viserys. He was at least two men (or three people) away from the throne. Why bother with him? Daenerys saw Tywin whispering in Viserys’ ear for most of his visit. The man mostly ignored her, until the final day of his visit when he privately proposed an alliance of marriage between Daenerys and Joffrey.

Despite trusting her brother to keep his word, Daenerys had also started a rumor that she made sure reached Cersei’s ears. One that Joffrey announced loudly, “I don’t want to marry a girl who was born with a tail!”

Daenerys burst into tears when he said it. While it might not deter Tywin Lannister, it gave Rhaegar enough reason to dismiss the match. 

Tywin Lannister caught her alone as she walked to her chambers. “You’re a clever girl, aren’t you?”

Daenerys looked down, not really faking her nerves around the man. “I’m not sure what you mean, my lord. My teachers say I’m smart enough for a girl.”

He looked at her until she finally met his eyes. Whatever he saw in them caused him to say, “Yes, you have a woman’s cleverness. I suspect my daughter could learn a thing or two from you.”

“And I her,” Daenerys said. “She’s the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.” Her eyes met Tywin’s. “A mother to such lovely children.” She had walked away from him then, and he had not returned to the Red Keep.

The Master of Coin was Littlefinger. Petyr Baelish was the most recent member of the Small Council, replacing Jon Arryn after a strange illness overtook the Lord of the Eyrie. Littlefinger was friendly and a nobody noble from nowhere. It made her wonder how he’d found himself in such a role then. Most of the men on the small council were never nobodies from nowhere. Everyone spoke of his talents, finding money as if from thin air, but Varys told her, “He is the most evil man I’ve ever met, and I knew your father.”

“What do you mean?” Daenerys knew what kind of man her father had been.

“Your father would have burned the realm to the ground to satisfy the voices in his head. Littlefinger would burn it to the ground for the fun of it, just because he can.”

Daenerys watched Littlefinger more closely after that, but she couldn’t piece together his plot. She would think she had a measure of it, but then he would do something that worked in the opposite of his favor.

It vexed her. She couldn’t see the full picture he was painting, but the man caught her once. Daenerys immediately suspected that he may have known her interest in him from the start. But she would give no sign of her suspicion.

“What are you doing following me, little Dragon?”

Daenerys put on her best innocent face. “I’m not following you, Lord Baelish. I’m making my way to the Tower of the Hand. I wanted to discuss the potential of a tourney to celebrate…” Daenerys’ mind failed her for a moment. “...to celebrate Prince Aegon’s upcoming name day.”

“Why would you be so eager to celebrate that? You hold no great care for him, I’ve heard.”

Daenerys ducked her head, discretely pinching her cheeks to simulate a blush. She knew it would be pointless to give him a standard answer that he was her nephew and of course she cared for him. So she went for a more embarrassing lie. “They crown a Queen of Love and Beauty at tournaments, and I....” She broke off as in embarrassment. “...It’s usually a relative of the one being honored who is named, and I thought...it’s stupid. I’m being stupid.”

Littlefinger smiled at her. She hoped that meant he believed her. “You needn’t worry about such things, your majesty. You are one of the most beautiful women in the world.”

“Thank you, Lord Baelish.” Daenerys moved to walk away, but LIttlefinger followed her.

“Perhaps I should accompany you? The Hand will need the Master of Coin’s approval, and I can help persuade him.”

Bluff called, she walked to the Tower of the Hand to ask for a tournament she didn’t care about. Connington had refused, citing the expense, but Aegon caught wind of it later and demanded it.

Connington would deny her, but he denied his prince nothing.

So she had learned much, but she could do little with this information. She didn’t have the power to do anything to stop or influence any of these powerful men. She only had some influence to arrange a tourney and that had mostly been a mistake. She could see the problems that existed in the Council, even the realm, knew the present problems would probably lead to bigger problems in the future, but she could do nothing to stop it.

Daenerys still felt useless and like just a watcher of life. So she focused back on an accomplishable task: getting Aegon off his idea of marrying her. He thought the tournament her way of encouraging him, so he was even more persistent now. She knew the Tyrell girl would be the perfect bait, she just needed to create the opportunity.

The announcement of Rhaenys’ wedding served as that opportunity. 

Margaery served as one of her maids as Daenerys chose the fabric for her dress as well as her jewelry. It was important for Daenerys, as this would be the first time she’d seen Jon since he’d left for Winterfell. It had to be perfect. Once Daenerys finished with her picks, she allowed all her followers to choose from her leftovers. She knew this generosity was why spots in her so sought after. It was also how she paid her ladies for loyalty and favors.

Margaery tried to appear above it all, but Daenerys caught the greed in the flower’s eyes when the jewelry was flaunted before her. Daenerys could work with that. Margaery was too smart to be without ambition. The princess played with the ring her mother left her, a nervous tick of hers, as she began. “The ladies all seem excited for the wedding.”

“They do,” Lady Margaery agreed. “The feast, the entertainment, the dresses, the jewelry…”

“...the eligible men, the dancing, the thought of who will be next,” Daenerys finished. She stopped playing with her ring. “Tell me, Lady Margaery, is there any young man who’s caught your eye?”

Margaery bowed her head. “Well, there is one man, but I’m afraid I might offend your majesty with my presumption if I were to tell you.”

Daenerys hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake. Would the lady say Jon in hopes of not appearing too presumptuous? Daenerys hoped not. Let her be after Aegon. “Are we not friends, Lady Tyrell? Nothing you, my dear friend, say could offend me.”

Don’t say Jon, Daenerys prayed. “Well, your majesty, your brother was always quite fetching.”

“No,” the word escaped Daenerys before she could stop it. She wanted to warn Margaery not to marry a monster, but she knew she could say such a thing. “What makes him appeal to you?”

“I think it’s the classic Targaryen looks. They are so fetching. So ethereal.”

“Aegon shares the same looks,” Daenerys pointed out.

“I could never be queen. Everyone knows Rhaegar is grooming you for that position.” 

Did they? Daenerys had been spending more time with her brother lately. They talked of their family, prophecies and magic, as well as the future of Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys had never thought of it as grooming her to be queen, but she wondered now.

But Rhaegar had said he was abandoning the practice of marrying Targaryens. That was what all this effort was for. She wanted Jon. She wanted to change Rhaegar’s mind. 

She smiled at her friend, “I think you would be a marvelous queen.”

Margaery bowed her head in modesty, “Thank you, your majesty.”

“You should ask Aegon for a dance at the wedding.”

“If you insist,” Margaery smirked.

Daenerys felt unsettled by the look. Had she been the player or had she been played? She supposed it didn’t matter. Aegon would be removed. 

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had underestimated Margaery Tyrell. She had thought her lady in waiting to be a simple, kind-hearted, harmless woman. A flower, pretty to look at, but fragile. She was none of these things. Every kindness was tinged with a calculation – she fed the poor to win favor with the common folk, she was kind and charming with everyone at court in case she may need a favor someday. Daenerys couldn’t fault her for ambition; she only cursed her own naivety.

But ultimately Daenerys thought that Margaery would be a good, if not great, queen. After all, the woman wasn’t completely cold-hearted, she loved her family dearly. The realm could do worse. While Maragery had been playing her as much as Daenerys had thought she had been playing her, they were still friendly. The Tyrells were good allies in any case, rich and the source of most of the Seven Kingdoms’ food.

The only real downside was the Aegon listened to Margaery now instead of his aunt. Daenerys would need to be sure that she married Jon before the Tyrells decided that Loras would be a better match for her.

The wedding would be a grand and beautiful event. Daenerys couldn’t wait for it to happen because Jon would be returning for it. He had hinted in his last letter that he might be returning from Winterfell for good this time.

Daenerys tried not to get her hopes too high, as she knew Jon loved it up north. Even his foolish notion to go to the Wall showed that he wanted to stay up there if he could. 

He’d looked so handsome the last time she’d seen him. A grown man now. Daenerys could feel the blush at her cheeks. Who knew the lovely boy she’d known would be so pretty?

Of course, she’d known that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Jon was the next prince in line for the throne, making his value the higher between him and Viserys, the other unmarried prince. Daenerys had knew that Viserys hated his brother and king for not arranging a marriage for him yet. Daenerys had kept her mouth shut when he’d ranted at her about it though she had desperately wanted to point out that no one who’d actually met Viserys wanted to marry him. While Viserys’ bad temperment would never completely stop most noble houses’ ambitions, most had their sights set on Jon first.

Arianne Martell had made no secret of her desire for him and the Lannisters were planning for Myrcella to attend the wedding. Several northern houses were sending their daughters down for the royal wedding as well. Even the Starks were sending Catelyn and her daughters Sansa and Arya down along with Jon. All were hoping to entice the young prince.

Daenerys hated how her emotions made her want to claw at the other women rather than smile politely. The great game had no room for emotion.

But this wasn’t about the game, this was Jon. Her best, her only real, friend. She didn’t see him as a political pawn. She couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t in either of their best interests, but she wanted him for herself. This was all for him. She loved him. Being apart for years had done nothing but solidify her affection for him. Through his letters, she had fallen deeply in love with him. She still dreamed of dancing with him like they had at Rhaenys’ wedding, like some lovesick girl. 

In King’s Landing, Daenerys was building a reputation as a true dragon princess, fierce, intelligent and beautiful, a true prize for any man, but Jon made her just another lovesick girl. She hated him for that, almost as much as she loved him for it.

She sat next to him during the ceremony and she knew they had almost as many eyes on them than the ones that fell on the royal pair marrying. She was the last royal female and Jon was the most eligible male. Everyone wanted them for themselves.

If Jon noticed the attention, he gave no indication. He looked bored and uncomfortable. It made Daenerys smile. Jon always had always looked more comfortable in armory than his finery. She leaned over to whisper, “Stop fidgeting. It’s not princely.”

“Like anyone is going to pay attention to me. Today is the good Aegon’s day.”

Daenerys pursed her lips. “Many lords and their daughters will look to you today, planning the next royal wedding.”

“Hmph,” Daenerys loved when Jon showed his disdain for tradition. “I wish them the best of luck with that. They’re going to need it.”

Daenerys chuckled under her breath. Jon rarely joked, but when he did, his wit was always sharp. She noticed Rhaegar looking at them. Daenerys sat up straight again, her eyes focused on the ceremony like the well-born princess she was. The future king and queen looked perfect. 

The wedding was a flawless, opulent affair. One Daenerys knew would be remembered fondly in the years to come. Daenerys noticed the ladies who once tried to wear Essos dresses similar to hers were now wearing Margeary’s fashions. It amused her to watch the sycophants flee from one royal to the other.

The feast was a dull affair though Daenerys would never admit as such. She only really began to enjoy herself again when the dancing started. Daenerys made a point to dance with the new queen, a sign of their friendship. Most of her dances with the various lords and their sons. She charmed them as best she could, but her feet ached soon enough from the sheer amount of men who stepped on them during their clumsy steps. Apparently most lords made their sons practice swordplay more than their dancing.

She noticed Viserys out of the corner of her eye, flirting with the pretty northern girl, Sansa. She seemed quite taken with the prince. Daenerys wondered what Jon thought about that, but she saw he was speaking with his other cousin, Arya.

When she finally got a chance, she snuck away from the party, snagging a glass of wine on her way out to the gardens. A slight chill was in the air and Daenerys wrapped her arms around herself. Winter was coming.

“I’ll say this for Aegon. He has better taste in wine since coming back from Dorne.” Jon approached her from behind. She wasn’t surprised he’d noticed her sneaking out or followed her. 

Dany grinned at him, laughing at his joke. ”And what did you gain from your time in the North?”

“A taste for ale.” He said, grimacing at the taste of the good wine.

Daenerys smiled again. She took his hand, forcing Jon to walk beside her. He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the closeness and the physical contact, but he did nothing to pull away or stop it. Instead, he entwined his fingers with hers, securing their hands together.

“King’s Landing seems...different now.” Jon said, clearly wanting to say something, but not having the words to say what he meant.

The North ruined him, Daenerys thought. Jon had lost any ability he might have once had to dance around and insinuate about subject. She looked at him in the low light of night though and couldn’t hate the North for the change in his looks. He looked rugged and tough; he truly was a man of the North now.

He was so pretty.

“It’s not different. You just understand it better now because you’re older.”

His eyes met hers and he said softly, “You’ve changed, so much Daenerys. I never thought you’d became a player.”

She knew what Jon meant. They had once mocked the lords and ladies who tried so hard to influence the king. They had read histories together and decided they would never do anything so foolish as play the games other nobles had. Now here she was, doing the same thing. “I had to out of boredom, if nothing else. Or did you think I would spend my days with my needlepoint?”

The cutting words almost hurt her once they left her mouth. Daenerys noticed Jon’s flinch at her harsh tone. She noticed everything now. She couldn’t turn it off, she was terrified to realize. Even with Jon, she couldn’t admit the full truth. She was too guarded now.

He was right, she had changed. And not for the better, she feared.

Jon stopped walking, letting go of her hand so he could face her. There were on the terrace that overlooked King’s Landing. The view, with the moonlight reflecting off the water, was beautiful. “Why Dany? Why are you doing this?”

Daenerys told Jon something she’d never confessed to anyone. “I walked through Flea Bottom once. Varys took me. No guard, disguised. I’ve never seen such suffering, Jon. Children in rags begging on the streets. Women selling themselves for scraps of food. Men killing each other for just a bit of coin. I want to help them.

“But I can’t do that without power. Sometimes power is terrible, but I want to help the small folk. Aegon tried, but he found out quickly that his reforms wouldn’t work without the noble houses behind him. I don’t intend to make the same mistake. I will play game, Jon, and I will win.”

“But you can’t. You won’t be king, Aegon will. How are you going to have enough power to change anything?”

“The crown is only where people think the power is, sometimes it’s better to operate behind it. I’m just a princess, but maybe I can do more as just a princess than a king could ever do. Rhaegar is so limited by his position sometimes. He has to please so many people. I’m a prize many powerful men want, I can use that for good.”

“You’re not a prize, Dany.” Daenerys looked over to see Jon’s open eyes. He was looking at her with admiration and awe, not with lust and greed like every other man. He was so beautiful, so pure. What had she ever done to deserve to have him look at her like that? His fingers brushed a curl behind her ear. “You’re so much more than that.”

She moved forward and rested her head on his shoulder. Jon still didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the contact, but he again didn’t move away. Instead he put an arm around her, pulling her closer. Daenerys never felt safer, never felt better. “I’ve missed you so much, Jon. Please don’t leave me again.” I’m lost without you, she thought. I’m so alone, and I need you so much. Her arms moved around him to hug him to her.

He hugged her back. “I won’t. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

It was strange, King’s Landing with Jon returned. He brightened the place again, but that wasn’t the purely good thing it had once been. Brightening the dark corners showed the rot more clearly. The rot Daenerys feared had infected her as well. 

When she’d first heard of Viserys’ engagement to the Stark girl, Daenerys hadn’t been surprised. She’d seen her brother flirt with the northern girl at the wedding. As much as Daenerys loathed him, she knew that Viserys could be charming when he wanted to be, and he could hide his cruelty when limited to small doses. She had thought little of it.

Jon’s horror had made her feel ashamed. How could she not care about the Stark girl’s pain? She knew the marriage wouldn’t go well. She knew the monster Viserys could be.

So she decided to at least attempt to put a stop to it. She didn’t tell Jon about it, fearing she would fail and not wanting to see disappointment in his eyes. She paid her brother a visit, waiting for it to be late enough that he’d already be in his cups, but not so late as to attract gossip.

She brought a bottle of Dornish red with her, on the off chance that Viserys needed it. It had been pointless, Viserys was quite drunk, but he ordered a servant to pour them both a glass anyway. Daenerys eyed the many servants in the room, knowing they were all probably on someone’s payroll.

Seven hells, she paid the blonde one. That’s how she’d learned of the engagement in the first place. She would have to watch what she said. She took a dainty sip.

“So what brings you here, Dany?” Viserys asked, a cruel glint in his eye.

“Can’t I just want to share a drink with my dear brother?” Daenerys took another sip.

“You don’t want to spend any time with me. Not since Jon came back.” 

It was true and Daenerys knew better than to deny it. She went for the truth instead. “I’ve heard tell that congratulations are in order.” She lifted her glass in a toast to him. “Sansa Stark, quite an accomplishment.”

Viserys grinned. “Yes, she is beautiful, isn’t she?” Of course that was all he had to say about his future wife. “How did you know?”

This time, Daenerys lied. “I was speaking with Rhaegar this afternoon. He let it slip.” 

Viserys scoffed. “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.” Her brother gave her a nasty glare. “Figures he’d tell his favorite Targaryen.”

“Rhaegar doesn’t have favorites. And if he did, it would be one of his children, not me. His heir Aegon, probably.”

“None of them are real Targaryens. They’re all half-breeds.” The words made Daenerys stiffen. Hadn’t her father once said similar things about Rhaegar’s children? What was Viserys playing at? “You’re everyone’s favorite Targaryen, Dany.”

Daenerys didn’t let his word affect her, but Viserys came closer now. She could smell the drink on his breath. “Rhaegar is a fool, not using you to his best advantage. The most beautiful woman in the world, and you’re nothing but eye candy at the court. I would’ve sold you to the highest bidder like a slave auction in Essos.” His eyes swept over her, lingering on her chest as his fingers played with strands of her hair. “After sampling you myself, of course.”

Daenerys tried not to flinch at his touch. Rhaegar would never allow any harm to come to her. He would punish Viserys if he ever dared to hurt her. Daenerys tried to comfort herself with these thoughts, but Rhaegar wasn’t here. He could only protect her from threats he knew about.

Jon would kill Viserys if she asked. The thought cooled Daenerys’ blood, as she knew it was true. A few words from her, and Viserys would be dead, regardless of the consequences of killing the king’s brother and his kin. She wouldn’t do that to Jon. Wouldn’t use him as her personal executioner. She was here for information, Viserys’ tongue was always loosened by wine. A trick she’d learned time and again.

“There are many beautiful ladies in the Seven Kingdoms. You’re future wife, for one.”

“But none of them are you, Dany. None of them a princess with silver hair and violet eyes. You look unlike any other woman in the world.”

Daenerys noticed Viserys wide pupils and again suppressed an instinct to squirm. He’d said such things to her before. His words had even inspired her to cultivate her more exotic look. She began to order dresses from Essos and taught herself to walk with a little more fluidity and sashay than the other noble ladies of Westeros. She even changed her hair and makeup to play up her differentness.

She noticed the effect had its desired outcome. She had been the most pleased when she saw how Jon couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her in her daring outfits. It had been a side effect, but it was a pleasant one.

But the way Viserys looked at her, that was not something that pleased her. Daenerys wanted to back away, perhaps even run out of his rooms, but she couldn’t afford to show such weakness to Viserys. She laughed, taking a full drink this time. “You have a brother’s kindness, Viserys. Of course you think I’m beautiful.”

Viserys’ eyes narrowed, but he backed off. “You should be my bride. If Rhaegar wasn’t so weak, he would’ve continued our family’s traditions.”

Daenerys remembered the eyes on her. This was dangerous territory. She couldn’t say anything treasonous, but Viserys wouldn’t want to hear her praise for their brother either. “Rhaegar’s rule started with a rebellion. He had to secure the other houses to him and quickly. He can’t afford to marry us to each other.”

“Rhaegar’s Rebellion,” Viserys finished his glass and held it out for a servant to pour another. “He acts all high and mighty, our brother, but it was his lust that almost destroyed our family. If he hadn’t beaten Robert at the Trident, our family might have been ruined.”

Daenerys didn’t like to think about that. Didn’t want to know what horrible things might have happened to them all without Rhaegar’s protection. But her brother wouldn’t live forever. Then what would happen? What would her family do without Rhaegar to hold them together? Viserys wanted the throne and the Lannisters fueled his ambitions. Aegon had been raised knowing the throne was his right, and Jon Connington fulfilled his every whim. What would happen when Rhaegar no longer filled the throne they both wanted?

Where would that leave her and Jon?

Daenerys put her fears aside. She’d come here for a reason. “Tell me about your future bride, Viserys. All I know of her is her loveliness.”

“What else is there to know?” Viserys scoffed. “She’s pretty, she’s a Stark, and she’s key to the North. That’s enough for me.”

Daenerys thought that told her a lot, but she still wondered how Viserys was planning to treat his future wife. But how did one subtly ask a man if he planned to beat and/or rape his wife? “Jon tells me that the northerners are a loyal folk, especially the Starks. You planning to win her loyalty to you?” 

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Dany. I’ll be quite sweet to my wife, provided she doesn’t wake the dragon, of course.”

The words confirmed Dany’s worst fears. Sansa Stark would marry a monster. She wanted to stop it, but how? She hadn’t been lying when she told Jon she could only think of two ways to stop the marriage without sullying Sansa’s reputation, by marrying Sansa to Jon instead or by Daenerys agreeing to marry Robb. From what Jon had told her, she could do worse as far as husbands went.

But she wanted Jon. It was selfish of her, and she wished she could be a better person and sacrifice her happiness for a stranger’s, but she couldn’t. She would stand aside and watch a woman who didn’t deserve it be sold off to a cruel man.

She kind of hated herself for her weakness. When she was truly alone, she sobbed.

 

* * *

 

Once a week, the royal family tried to have a meal together. With Elia spending all of her time in Dorne now, Daenerys had taken her good sister’s place at the other end of the table facing her brother, the king. Daenerys had used the seating arrangement to her advantage, inviting her favorites, council members, or visiting nobles to dine with them. If Rhaegar objected, he didn’t voice it to her. It grew to be one of the most desired invitations within the court. Rhaegar couldn’t stand the small talk of his position, but Daenerys didn’t mind it, so the most requested spots were the ones near her.

It had thrilled her at first, for people to see her in even a small position of power and love her in it. Though its popularity had backfired on her now, as she didn’t get to sit next to Jon during family meals. He sat next to his father with Aegon on the other side, and both Jon and Rhaegar looked gloomy while Aegon talked. 

Watching it put a smile on Daenerys’ face, sometimes it was hard to see any of Rhaegar in Jon. But their sad brooding faces matched. It amused Daenerys probably more than it should. Ser Dayne had said they matched in fighting skill as well, but Daenerys didn’t know enough about swordplay to know if that was true.

She once shared her observation with Jon, which made his melancholy increase. He insisted that Daenerys was closest to the king. “You’re the only person I’ve seen him talk to about everything.” Daenerys tried to brush it off, as Aegon was heir and the one Rhaegar spent the most time with, but she knew that Aegon didn’t have the patience for Rhaegar’s deep philosophical musings.

At the end of tonight’s meal, Rhaegar asked to share a drink alone with Daenerys. It was common enough not to cause any alarm, as Rhaegar sometimes liked to get her take on certain issues. Or he sensed she needed rescuing from that night’s dinner guest or he needed rescuing from it all. It thrilled Daenerys to help Rhaegar rule even in such a small way. It was also the only way they were ever able to truly bond. She knew it drove Viserys and Aegon nuts, but Daenerys didn’t care. It was nice to talk with her brother alone.

They went to his private chambers, and he poured them both some wine. She sat at his table, while he went to the balcony, enjoying the slight breeze on the warm night.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Silence was how the evenings always started, often stretching for nearly an hour. Daenerys wondered if it was Rhaegar’s only way to get peace and quiet. She understood the need for it and was happy to give him an excuse. 

He often liked to play and sing to her, or more likely, at her. Daenerys enjoyed those evenings best, as Rhaegar loved music and he was so talented. The evenings she enjoyed least were the ones where he shared his theories about the various prophecies that supposedly surrounded their family. Daenerys thought it a dangerous path for him to go down, to believe their fates were already set.

But tonight she suspected Rhaegar wanted to talk about something, as he wasn’t relaxing the way he usually did. She got up to join him on the balcony. She looked out on the city her ancestors had built and made their capital. She often looked at the skulls in the throne room, wishing she still lived in the time of dragons.

What would have it been like to ride a dragon?

“I received a message from Dorne this afternoon. Elia has taken to her bed. They suspect it’s the sweating sickness.” 

People didn’t usually recover from that, Daenerys knew. They would probably be planning a funeral for a queen soon. The last one had been for her mother. Daenerys looked down, her fingers playing with her ring. How she wished she had had the chance to meet her.

Viserys often blamed her for their mother’s death. Daenerys knew it was unfair to blame it on her, but Rhaella’s death had happened giving birth to her. She had spoken with Jon often about the unfair guilt they shared over their mothers’ dying to give them life.

“I’m sorry, Rhaegar,” Daenerys said sympathetically. She wished her brain hadn’t jumped ahead, hadn’t then turned to why Rhaegar had told her, presumably before anyone else. But it did. And she could only think of one reason, one that frightened her.

Was Rhaegar going to propose? It was the Targaryen way. His marriage to Elia had only happened because there was no one else. But Daenerys was here now. She was of an age. She had been too late then, but she was here now.

She tried not to stiffen, but she couldn’t help it. She had wanted to marry Jon, all of her efforts to make it happen would amount to nothing if her king commanded her. She couldn’t go against Rhaegar.

Daenerys asked in a small voice, “Are you going to remarry then?”

Rhaegar chuckled a bit, in his sad way, “Of course that’s where your mind goes, Dany. You’re such a politician sometimes.” He didn’t sound condemning, it was almost admiring. He looked out over the city. “It made me think of my own mortality. What will happen when I go.”

Daenerys’ nerves got worse, but she hid them. “That won’t be for a long time, your grace. Gods be good.”

“Daenerys, there’s a storm coming. I know that you feel it too. I made my succession plan clear in my will, but…” Rhaegar paused. “...but I don’t think it’ll go well.” 

“It won’t,” Daenerys agreed. She had to say it aloud at least once in her king’s presence.

Rhaegar looked out again. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be one of them? A common person without the cares of succession and politics, without the burden of a great family legacy, without any of the cares of a royal?”

“They don’t have the cares of royals because they are more worried about eating, Rhaegar. We might have wound up beggars had we been born in a different family. Don’t romanticize it.”

Rhaegar chuckled again, “Ruthless as always, Dany. I don’t know that I’ll ever find a lord who will be able to handle you for his wife.”

“Am I to be handled?” She smirked. 

“Have you ever considered who you would wed? You’re a woman grown now. It’s one of the few things I haven’t settled yet.”

Daenerys sensed a trick. “I would marry a man who could love a dragon.”

Rhaegar studied his little sister. Daenerys was struck by Rhaegar’s looks suddenly. Had she been born earlier this man would have been her husband. She would have been the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in another life. Perhaps it would still happen in this one if Elia died. There was nothing to stop the king if he wanted her as his third wife. “Does such a man exist?” Rhaegar asked.

Daenerys felt a stab of uncertainty under her brother’s kingly gaze. She looked away. “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m unmarried.”

“Jon has asked to speak with me, alone. Do you know why?”

Dany felt her heart stop. Could it be? Would Jon actually ask? But no, she repressed the hope. 

Hope was dangerous. “No idea,” Daenerys answered, tilting her chin up.

“Really?” Rhaegar asked. Daenerys ignored the implication.

Rhaegar studied her for a moment more before he said softly, “I’m not married to Elia now.”

Had this been what he truly wanted to talk about? Whatever Daenerys might have guessed this never would have been it. “What do you mean?”

“I lied, Daenerys. When I told everyone I had taken Lyanna as my second wife. She wasn’t my second wife. I had my marriage to Elia Martell annulled, and I made Lyanna Stark my true wife. My only wife.”

Which made Jon his only trueborn son. Daenerys found a chair near the balcony doors to sit in. It was shocking to know this. Why was he telling her all of this? “Rhaegar…”

“No one else knows. It was probably a mistake. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was mad on love. When Lyanna died,” Rhaegar stopped, the pain clear on his face. After all these years, Daenerys thought. But then how long would it take her to recover if Jon died?

She would never recover from such a blow she realized. Rhaegar continued, “When Lyanna died, I realized what I had done to my first family. My first son, he didn’t deserve to be left out of the succession, and I feared what he would have done to my other son if he’d grown up with that resentment. I tried to prevent a civil war, but I don’t know that I did. Time will tell.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Daenerys asked, aloud this time.

“Someone needs to know.” Rhaegar went inside to a desk. He took out a book from a drawer. “Here’s the proof, Dany.”

Daenerys’ held the book with a reverence. She held so much power. And now that she finally had it, she didn’t want it. She didn’t want this. “You didn’t answer my question.” Daenerys was surprised by her voice’s steadiness. 

“I trust you. I know you’ll do the right thing for our family.” Rhaegar brushed a lock of Daenerys’ hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek. It didn’t feel creepy like it did when Viserys did it, but it also didn’t feel sensual like when Jon did it. It felt naturally affectionate. “You are a dragon, Daenerys Stormborn. More so than the rest of us. I will leave our family’s legacy in your capable hands.”

It was too much. How was she supposed to deal with this? She wanted to tell her oldest brother to take it all back. She didn’t want to know this. She didn’t want this much responsibility. She was only a princess.

No, she thought, her spine straightening. Her eyes met her brother’s matching violet ones. She was a dragon. Fire and blood. She nodded.

 

* * *

 

The boat swayed beneath her as Daenerys watched King’s Landing recede into the distance in dawn’s pale light. It was like watching her world disappear.

In many ways, it had. Rhaegar’s death had been a shock and it toppled Daenerys’ world. She had cried in the days leading up to the funeral. Jon had often comforted her, and she selfishly let him though she knew he must be hurting too. She hadn’t cried in public though, wouldn’t show such weakness to anyone but Jon.

Still playing the game, always playing. 

Daenerys watched her family fall apart and turn against each other. She felt like an outsider, like it was happening to people she didn’t even know. She had often felt this way, but she’d had Rhaegar, now she was completely alone.

She had Jon, but he couldn’t stop this and her efforts to convince him to do so and take the throne for himself had failed. She knew she would fail, as Jon would never seek power for himself, but she had hoped to be wrong. 

Daenerys had been in his arms less than an hour ago and already she missed him. She wondered if she should turn the boat around and demand he come with her so he could be safe. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to do that, the guilt of not helping his brother would eat away at him and he would be compelled to go back. So then she wanted to turn the boat back around and climb back into bed with him, pretend she had never left.

But she couldn’t. It wasn’t safe for her in Westeros anymore.

She knew at some point Viserys and Aegon would stop fighting long enough to get the idea to take her hostage and marry her off to whatever family they needed an alliance with. The Lannisters had declared they would stay out of it, but she knew that neither her brother nor her nephew would hesitate to use her to sway them to their side. She would probably wind up married to Joffrey, monster he was, and she could not let that happen. She had to leave. Now.

This would be her only shot at freedom, real freedom she’d never experienced before.

Still, her thoughts lingered on Jon, the only man she’d ever loved.

It had been a mistake, she decided. Her feelings for him were dangerous. She had to actively suppress the urge to run back into Jon’s arms and proclaim her love for him.

What if he’d gotten her pregnant?

Daenerys let go of the deck she found herself gripping, deciding to go below decks. She couldn’t worry about that now. And part of her, a foolish one she knew, hoped she was. She longed to be carrying a piece of Jon with her right now. She wanted to grow a child as proof of their love, proof that could never be disputed. Daenerys would be a ruined woman, no longer fit to be married off like chattel. 

What if he had gotten her pregnant?

Daenerys opened the door to her room, which was marked with the three-headed sigil of their house. She went directly to the box with the matching sigil that contained the eggs Rhaegar had left her. The ones he died trying to awaken.

She took one out, the golden cream one, caressing it. She was growing just as obsessed with them as her brother had. It worried her.

For the first time, Daenerys understood the madness that had gripped Rhaegar in his final days. For it was gripping her too. She thought she could feel and hear the pulses from the dragon eggs, knew there must be some way to awaken them. She could her the flames calling to her. She knew they were connected. She just didn’t know how.

Fire and Blood, her house’s words. She had always thought it her house’s greatest strengths. But now she saw it was their weakness as well. They gained and retained power through fire and blood, but it was also the source of the Targaryen madness. It was a fine line to walk, and so many of her family had tumbled trying to balance it.

She would not fall. 

 

* * *

 

Essos was not what Daenerys imagined. She had been desperate for an adventure of her own. She had never been allowed outside of King’s Landing except for royal tours. She’d always been jealous of the boys who got to leave home to be fostered elsewhere. Even Rhaenys spent more time in Dorne than King’s Landing. If rumors were to believed, Rhaenys and her husband toured the Seven Kingdoms to sample whores from each, inviting men into their shared bed.

Varys had helped her escape, even convincing Ser Barristan Selmy to accompany her. He had told her that his little birds were present in Essos and would be able to send a message if necessary. She had thanked him and even hugged him, which she thought surprised the man. She doubted anyone had ever shown him such affection, as he was not well loved.

Right now she was staying in the house of one of Varys’ oldest friends, Illyrio Mopatis. The man was pleasant and friendly to her, but she couldn’t let her guard down around him. She suspected the man wasn’t letting her stay here out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something. 

It took nearly a month for him to tell her. He saw her, stroking her dragon eggs, a habit she’d picked up, as the beating she swore she could feel from the stone eggs, comforted her. “Did you know that I gave your brother those eggs?”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “Rhaegar told me they were to be a wedding gift for me.”

Illyrio smiled. “Yes, I had hoped they might also serve as dowry.”

Daenerys replaced the black egg she’d been holding. Of course, she thought. It was all anyone ever wanted from her, for her to be their bride. The only man who didn’t was the only man she wanted to marry.

She had been almost sad when her moon’s blood came, part of her had hoped for a child from her one night with Jon, despite the complications it would cause. She imagined a little girl with his dark curls and her violet eyes.

She decided to ignore his implied proposal. “You were going to take me to Pentos today?” She asked, shifting topics.

“Ah, yes.” He fingered his beard. “I thought you might like to see a slave auction. Perhaps buy a few for your household, if you’d like.”

Daenerys’ look darkened. “I’m from Westeros. What makes you think I’d take any interest in such a barbaric practice?”

“Because you’ve never seen one.” Daenerys didn’t bother to hid her displeasure at the thought. “Come now, princess. You were the one who said you wanted to see all of Essos. You wanted to learn all about these foreign lands. Slavery is commonplace everywhere but the free cities.” His eyes shifted to her handmaidens. “You don’t seem to mind the slaves that serve you.”

Daenerys felt ashamed. She’d been wrapped up so much in her own troubles she hadn’t bothered to care about her handmaidens or their position in this household. She went along to the auction, Doreah explained what was happening.

It was even worse than Daenerys would have imagined. The men, women and children were treated little better than cattle. The entire practice made her sick to her stomach. She approached one woman who was clutching onto a child. Daenerys asked her, in Valyrian, “What is your child’s name?”

“Please don’t take him,” the woman begged. “Or at least don’t separate us.” Her outburst was met with a whip at her back. 

It was enough for Daenerys. She strode over to the man in charge. “How much for all of them?” she asked.

He scoffed at her. “Away from me, little girl.”

Daenerys didn’t move. “How much?”

The man grinned at her, several gold teeth shimmering in the hot sun. “More than you can afford.”

Daenerys took off her necklace. It was made of pure silver, the finest quality. “Will this cover it?”

She knew it was probably worth more than this man could earn in a lifetime, but still the man hemmed and hawed, like he wasn’t sure of the value. Daenerys didn’t back down and they reached a deal. 

She turned to her slaves now. She announced to them, “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. You are now all mine. But I do not keep slaves, so you are all free.” The men and women exchanged looks, confused. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the slavers’ displeasure. Good, she thought, I want the slavers to hate me. “If you wish to return to your homelands and your families, I will help you in anyway that I can. You may also serve in my household, and I will give you my protection and pay you a wage. The choice is yours.”

A murmur spread amongst the group. Then one stepped forward, “We shall serve you, Master Daenerys.” They all knelt before her.

“I am no master,” Daenerys said. She turned to face her companions. 

Ser Selmy seemed impressed, his admiration clear on his face. Her handmaidens seemed puzzled yet intrigued by her actions. 

Her host, on the other hand, rolled his eyes at her actions. Illyrio mocked her, “It means nothing.”

“It means something to them.” 

“You cannot change the world, your highness.”

“You cannot,” she corrected rudely.

“What will you do? Buy and free every slave in Essos?”

“Perhaps I will.” She had plenty of jewelry she could sell.

 

* * *

 

With her household growing, Daenerys realized that she would need protection for herself and them, perhaps even an army. She knew the slavers were growing to hate her, for undermining them. Slaves ran to her now if they spotted her distinct features on the street, which infuriated their masters. They called her the foreign whore, meddling with their ways.

She spoke with Illyrio about it. He suggested a marriage, first with himself, as he could afford a sellsword army, but she pressed for more options. So he mentioned the Dothraki and how she could marry a powerful khal and gain an army that way.

Daenerys hated that marriage seemed to be the only option for her to do anything. She thought of Jon. She took no oath of fidelity to him, but she knew it would feel like a betrayal if she took another man for a husband. Even if it was for the greater good and Jon would understand.

She prayed that Jon was okay. She heard very little news about the civil war that had consumed her home. But she knew Jon fought on the side of Aegon. She hoped he would keep himself safe.

She dreaded receiving news that he might be dead someday.

Illyrio arranged a meeting between her and Khal Drogo. He commanded a khalasar of 40,000 and had never suffered a defeat. The khal spoke no common tongue and she didn’t know Dothraki, so a translator was brought with, a man named Jorah Mormont.

She joined the khalasar as they made their way to Vaes Dothrak, wearing a daring outfit of see-through silk the first time Khal Drogo laid eyes on her. He was handsome, she thought. 

Her time with them was enlightening. She hated the cruelty and the slavery she saw, but knew she could do nothing. She was only safe here because the khal desired her and wanted to take her as his wife. 

Part of her did see the appeal of him, his strength and conquest, she knew she could love him, at least love him enough, if she let herself. It was the dragon’s blood in her, the part of her that desired bloodshed and destruction and fire, the part that wanted power and did not mind the terrible things one did to get it. It was a part of Dany she didn’t care for, one she preferred to pretend didn’t exist.

But she did not want to marry Khal Drogo, because Khal Drogo was not Jon Targaryen. With no one here to force her into the marriage, she saw no reason to do so. But she did not know how else to gain the needed protection for her newfound people.

The khal pursued her with a fierce determination. He wanted her, and Daenerys had learned well in King’s Landing how to use that to her advantage. Every lord and his son had wanted a beautiful princess for a bride, and she’d used that to build alliances and her own network of spies and warriors.

Her tricks worked on every man but the one it wasn’t a game with. Gods, she missed Jon. She wondered what he was doing right now. A year of war in Westeros, she thought bitterly, he may not even still be alive.

No, Jon lived. He was one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms. But even the best could be cut down.

Thinking in circles wouldn’t help her.

Khal Drogo said something to her. Jorah translated it for her, “The Khal wants to make you his.”

“I am no Dothraki slut,” she told him with Jorah translating. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I am a princess of the Seven Kingdoms. If you want me, impress me.”

She saw the glint in Khal Drogo’s eyes and she knew she had him. He loved the hunt, he loved a battle, and she would fight him.

She only worried that she might not win.

 

* * *

 

The dragon eggs called to her. Daenerys could hear their pulses, just waiting to be a lit again.

Khal Drogo was dead, killed by a poisoned blade from Khal Ogo. It was a deceitful trick. Ogo’s son, Fogo would be here in minutes to claim what had once been Drogo’s, which he thought included Daenerys. He would rape her, take her for himself, and enslave her along with those who followed her.

Daenerys would not allow that to happen. Jorah Mormont and Ser Barristan kept asking her to leave while she still could, but she would not. They didn’t understand, but she would show them. She kept the death secret though much of the khalasar was breaking up already, or joining with Fogo’s, as they perceived strength in the young man. Daenerys would show them all true strength.

In the hut where Khal Drogo’s body laid, Daenerys set up two braziers on either side of the man’s body. Upon one she laid her dragon eggs, the flames licking their surface. She stood next to the other. She had ordered Drogo’s bloodriders to seal the doors once Khal Fogo entered and wait outside.

They didn’t want to listen to her, after all she was no khal. She had told them, “No, I am a khaleesi.”

“You are the wife of no khal either,” Jhogo pointed out. 

“You will see,” she told them. “Do as I say, and your Khal Drogo will be avenged.”

They didn’t seem to understand what she was doing, but they understood revenge. They believed she would kill Khal Fogo to avenge Khal Drogo, even if they didn’t understand how.

Khal Fogo entered, looking smug, with his bloodriders trailing behind. His eyes looked over her, “So your the defeated khal’s foreign bitch.” 

Jhogo, Rakharo and Aggo reached for their weapons, but Daenerys called them off, ordering them out as discussed. This only served to amuse Khal Fogo. “You send your protection away? Good,” he said, removing his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the floor. “I shall fuck you then turn you over to my men. Then they will turn you over to their men. We may even let our horses have a turn.”

Daenerys ignored their words. She stared into Khal Fogo’s dark eyes. “You have not beaten me,” she said. She pushed over the brazier, which ignited the kindling she’d laid throughout the hut prior to their arrival.

The flames caught quickly and the men trapped inside with her, attempted to get out. But it was no use, they would not escape. Daenerys ignored their cries and screams as she walked over to the other brazier. There she could feel the pulse of the dragon eggs beating stronger than ever. She reached her hands into the fire to caress the eggs once more.

The pulses changed to a cracking noise. She lifted the eggs from the brazier to cradle them, the fire consumed them all. As she closed her eyes and let the heat overwhelm her she heard the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard: the song of a dragon.

The fire burned through the night and most of the khalasar stayed as respect to their Khal Drogo and the woman who’d avenged them. Barristan stayed, determined to look through the wreckage and find Rhaella Targaryen’s ring. Perhaps Rhaenys would want it.

To all of their surprise, the fire didn’t destroy everything. As the flames died and the smoke cleared away, among the ashes sat a young naked woman. In her arms she cradled three newly hatched dragons.

Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, gained a khalasar that day, without marrying anyone, as all who witnessed the birth of her dragons bowed to her.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had left Westeros in search of adventure and safety. She had wanted to escape the war that was tearing her family apart. She had wanted to discover a world behind the Red Keep and King’s Landing. 

What she found was purpose. She would leave this world better than she found it.

She hadn’t meant to become some legendary figure -- Mother of Dragons, they called her, the Unburnt. But she did mean to use the power she found herself with to see the end of slavery, to better the lives of thousands. Ser Barristan served her well as her Hand. She’d known the man since she had been a child. He’d been the kingsguard most often assigned to her and she knew that he truly was the most honorable man in the realm.

She had been surprised by his sharp mind and his gift for strategy. He’d been a knight his entire life, but Daenerys wondered if Barristan the Bold had missed his calling. He would have ran the kingdom far better than Jon Connington ever had.

The only advice she didn’t take from him was his opinion on Jorah Mormont. He wanted the old knight killed. “He was a slaver,” he argued. “Ned Stark ordered his death and you should follow through on that order.”

“The Dothraki enslaved others before joining me as well. I cannot pardon them only to punish another for the same crime.”

“He knew better.” His voice lowered. “And I do not like how he looks at you.”

Daenerys couldn’t deny that. She saw it too. There was little she could do about that, but Jorah was completely loyal to her. She liked having him around. He was another piece of home. 

It helped that he was a man of the North. His manners reminded her of Jon. Jon, who she missed desperately. Jon, who was fighting a war across the sea and might die any day. A death it would take months, at best, for the news to reach her. She only hoped he wasn’t already gone and she just didn’t know yet.

She tried to limit her worry for him, tried to focus on her own goals, but when she was alone at night, all she could remember was that one night when they were truly together.

She longed for him to be at her side.

But she refused to look back, she only moved forward. She sacked Astapor with her Dothraki, freeing the Unsullied and joining them to her cause. She followed that up with Yunkai and Meereen, conquering Slaver’s Bay and freeing thousands. 

She was declared Queen of Meereen, which she deemed more important than Princess of Westeros. She stayed and ruled, determined to stabilize the region from the chaos she caused.

 

* * *

 

Jon’s message was unbelievable. The Night King and his Undead Army had returned and were gathering strength beyond the Wall. It was nonsense, madness.

But she knew Jon. He was no madman or liar. He was a stubborn, brave fighter who didn’t ask for help easily. If he said the Long Night had returned, than it had. If he said Winter was here, than it was. If he said he needed her and her help, then he did.

Daenerys’ first instinct was to abandon everything and everyone to fly to him at the Wall. The desire was so strong, she had to bite down on her fist to keep from calling to Drogon.

Jon needed help, she reminded herself, not just you. He needs your dragons and your armies. Her Dothraki who wouldn’t cross the sea. Her Unsullied who were trying to ferret out the Sons of the Harpy and failing. And she hadn’t the boats to transport any of them. 

Besides which her reign here wasn’t stable. She couldn’t leave. If she did, the slaves she’d set free would be enslaved once more. She cursed herself for every time she’d criticized Rhaegar, what had she ever known about ruling? What could she do to help Jon now?

She felt as helpless as she once had in King’s Landing. Westeros, she thought, her time as a princess felt like a lifetime ago. She felt like a different person now.

In many ways, she was. She was the Queen of Meereen, she was a khaleesi. So she looked at these problems as a queen would. She looked at the numbers, estimating how many wildlings and men might be at the wall as well as the troops left from the War of the Dragon Kings.

She wanted to help Jon, but she looked to her numbers. It wouldn’t be enough. She needed more men.

Luckily, she knew where to get them. The Dothraki were meeting at Vaes Dothrak. All the khals would be there, and now so would she.

 

* * *

 

Even the children. Daenerys always known her brother was a monster. She had grown up with his casual cruelty, his vanity, and the stories of how he reminded so many of their father, the Mad King. But still, she struggled to accept this horror from the boy who’d once wiped tears from her eyes when she fell in the courtyard and skinned her knee.

He’d even had Aegon’s daughter and Rhaenys’ two boys killed. None of them were more than five years old. How could he? She understood killing Aegon, Rhaenys and their supporters. That was war. It was a ruthless method, but she understood that.

But the children? Why did they have to die? Viserys needed heirs, he could have fostered them, ensured they grew up loyal to him until he took his next wife and fathered his own children. 

She should have left Essos directly after receiving Jon’s message. Damn the consequences. She had gotten her full khalasar and reconquered Slaver’s Bay, with a stable government in place to keep the former masters in line. But that time had cost her. Too much she saw now. Ser Selmy had been killed in the final uprising, and most of her family wiped out because of her delay in returning to Westeros.

Daenerys wondered how Jon was taking the news. He’d supported his brother in the war, but they’d never been particularly close. Jon had even left his brother’s fight for the fight beyond the Wall. But Jon was no monster, he would grieve for his fallen family.

Jon. Jon was heir to the Iron Throne now. Daenerys remembered before the war even began, asking him to take the kingship for himself, to unite them all under his rule. She would’ve supported his rule.

But if he didn’t want it...Daenerys looked out over Meereen. She was a queen, not by birthright but by right of conquest. She heard Drogon’s cry, saw her black dragon fly overhead, dancing with his brothers. They were play-fighting. Drogon was said to be Balerion reincarnated. 

If he was Balerion, Daenerys thought, than his rider would be Aegon the Conqueror reborn. She looked out from the pyramid to the city that was hers. She was a queen. She was a conqueror. She’d taken Slaver’s Bay for her own, earning the title the Breaker of Chains. She was the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. 

Daenerys would return home, but not as a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms coming to swear fealty to the king that won, not even to usurp her brother to put Jon on the throne.

No, she would come as a conqueror. Her brother had always claimed to be a true dragon. It was time to put that claim to the test. It was time for him to dance with her.

 

* * *

A small rowboat was spotted approaching her fleet. Normally such a thing would be ignored, but Daenerys had been summoned because this one flew a Targaryen banner, but a bastard banner, a black dragon on a red field. Daenerys remembered when Jon told her he often felt like the bastard Targaryen, even if Lyanna and Rhaegar had been married. She ordered her men to stop, wanting to hear what this man has to say.

She didn’t recognize the man, but Ser Davos Seaworth was a familiar name to her. He was Stannis Baratheon’s man, the Onion Knight. Who she learned, was now Jon’s man. She was surprised Stannis Baratheon was Jon’s Hand. But then she thought about how both men were dour, serious and honor bound, and maybe it wasn’t so strange.

“King Jon Targaryen is set to be executed in the morning, my lady.”

Daenerys’ heart stopped. No. Not Jon. Not now. She was so close. They were set to land in two days.

“Your grace,” Missandei corrected. Davos looked confused, so Daenerys’ translator explained, “Daenerys Targaryen is the Queen of Meereen.” 

“Bloody Targaryens,” Davos said under his breath. Daenerys chose to ignore it. Her bloodriders did not, unsheathing their arakhs. Daenerys ordered them put away.

Daenerys called for Drogon. “We won’t make it in time by sea. We’ll have to fly.”

She ordered her men to continue and that she would join them when they came ashore. Drogon landed in the water beside her ship, causing the deck to bounce as the water rippled. Her son stretched out a wing and Daenerys climbed carefully on his back.

Davos’ eyes bugged out at the sight of the black dragon, but they seemed to bug out further when Daenerys reached for him. “Ser Davos,” she said. “Let’s go rescue our king.”

 

* * *

 

Daenerys found peace in Jon’s arms. She was reminded of her last night in Westeros, so much like her first night back. Sometimes she had worried that she had been gone too long. That Jon would have moved on and found another to love or marry.

She really should have known better. She kissed a scar on his pec. He was covered in scars now, his body showing what the last few years had done to him more clearly than words could. Some night, she would demand a story for each scar, and she would kiss every one of them in an effort to ease his pain.

She should have been here, with him and beside him. But then she wouldn’t have an army or dragons, so perhaps it had been fated or the will of the gods or random luck or whatever one wished to call it. There was no room to look back in any case. She could only move forward. Daenerys had already sacrificed so much time away from Jon. She would never willingly repeat that mistake. She would spend the rest of her days with him.

She lifted her head from his chest to look into his grey eyes. There had always been a sadness in them, but it had increased over the years, she saw. And there was now an old wisdom in them that hadn’t been present before. She realized she hadn’t said it before so she said it now, “I love you.”

The corners of Jon’s mouth lifted and his eyes lit up just a bit. “I love you too.”

It lifted Daenerys’ spirit to see it and her head went back to rest on his chest again.

“It’s not settled, you know,” Jon said. “If you march north now, you’ll lose the Seven Kingdoms just as quickly as you got them. The southern kingdoms will start fighting each other again as we leave to fight the Great War. You’ll need to be sure of stability first.”

Daenerys laughed. It was strange to hear Jon talk like a politician. But then, he was a king in his own right. He must have learned to rule in their time apart. Just as she had learned to command an army.

Daenerys was both sad and happy to find these differences in him. It was like he was a new person she would have to learn all over again. But then glimpses of the Jon she’d always known and loved shone through.

Still, his advice was good. “Aye,” she agreed, using a northern way she’d learned from him. “You’re right. I can’t leave until our power base is secured here. But we can’t afford a fight either. Too many have already died in our family’s costly wars. We need as many as we can get to fight the Night King and his army.”

Jon let out a breath of relief. “Yes, thank you. I’ve been trying to convince people of that for years.”

“Did you try proof?” Daenerys asked, only half-joking.

“Yes, I sent a hand down once, but it rotted before anyone bothered looking at it. Even tried capturing one of the damned things, but that mission…” Jon broke off. “It didn’t end well, Dany. We stopped after that.”

He had so many sad stories now. Daenerys wished she could wipe them all away, but suspected Jon wouldn’t let her even if she had such power. The obstacles in her life had made her who she was, much as they had made him. She wouldn’t trade them for what she’d learned and gained from the pain, and she knew Jon felt the same. No matter how many new experiences he’d had and how much he’d changed, Daenerys would always know Jon’s mind and heart well.

Much like he would always know hers.

She sat up, gathering a sheet around her. Jon followed, sitting up as well, awkwardly adjusting the fur to cover his lap. “I should have come sooner,” Daenerys said sadly. Maybe she could have prevented the deaths of their family  if she hadn’t stayed in Meereen and ruled.

Jon’s hand lightly skimmed her back. “Don’t think like that.”

“If I look back, I’m lost.” She looked to him. “I say that to myself a lot. It helps when I can see is my failures.”

His eyes met hers. “That’s a good mantra.” He looked away. “Ser Dayne died,” Jon said sadly.

Daenerys reached out to grasp Jon’s hand. She knew how close the two had been. He’d practically been a second father to Jon. “Ser Barristan too,” she confirmed. He’d died fighting during the last Meereen uprising. She knew he’d been happy to die fighting, but she still missed him. He’d become a dear friend in the end.

She knew Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower had died at Aegon’s side. Most of the Kingsguard had sided with her nephew, and as far as she knew, they’d all died in battle. “Did any of Rhaegar’s Kingsguard make it through?”

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” Jon said. “Though I don’t think he’s still a Kingsguard.”

“What do you mean? The vows are for life.”

“Yes, there was some debate over that. I don’t think it was settled yet. But I heard Viserys’ deal with Tywin Lannister for his support included freeing his son Jaime from his service so that he could be heir of Casterly Rock.”

If Viserys had a deal like that with Lannister, it wouldn’t be safe to keep him alive. “I’m sure Tywin’s second son loved that.”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never met the dwarf.”

Tyrion, Daenerys remembered, that was his name. Maybe they could use him somehow. It would be to his advantage to support them rather than Viserys because of such a deal. And from what she remembered from court gossip, the man may have been stunted in growth, but he possessed a clever mind.

“How is it that you know all the court gossip now and I don’t?” Daenerys asked, rising up again so she could look at Jon.

“I had to,” Jon said bitterly. “I couldn’t come down here with just my cock in hand.” Daenerys’ eyebrow raised. Jon sighed, “Sorry, I’ve been surrounded by soldiers for the past five years. What I meant to say is that I did my research so I would know exactly what I was walking into when I came down here.” 

“Yet you still walked into my brother’s trap. Why?”

“I had to,” Jon repeated. He closed his eyes. “My life doesn’t matter. Only that we win the Great War and defeat the Night King. They had to know what was coming at the very least. So many are going to die, even if we win.”

Daenerys hated it when he said stuff like that. When he put himself down. When he let the melancholy take over. It also reminded her of Rhaegar, which didn’t put her in a better mood. She asked a question that had been plaguing her. “Jon, why weren’t you fighting when I rescued you? You could have taken any champion Viserys threw your way.”

“It would have been Robb.” Jon said with certainty. “He would have made me kill the cousin who was like a brother to me for my freedom. Or Robb would have had to kill me under his king’s order. Or we would have refused and both wound up on the executioner’s block.” Daenerys wanted to deny it, but it sounded true. “I’m so tired of fighting,” Jon confessed with a sigh. “I’ve been fighting since you left. Since father died. It feels like I’ve been at war for a lifetime. I’m so tired, Dany.”

Jon was so different than she remembered. This was not the young man she’d left behind. This was a wizened warrior, haunted by too many battles and too many losses. Daenerys put her hand on his cheek. She understood, too well. “There’s still fighting to be done. But we will finish this together. I promise. You're not alone anymore, Jon.”

Jon’s eyes met hers and he leaned forward, catching her lips in a rough kiss. It was as though a fire had been lit inside of him.

She shrugged off the sheets she’d wrapped around herself, nude again. Jon’s breath caught as she bent her head to more closely examine the scars he’d acquired over the years.

When they’d last done this, years ago, he’d been little more than a boy, his skin had been smooth and his eyes nervous. He was a man now, grizzled, scared and a bit broken, she thought. But still, everything she’d ever wanted. She licked the scar over his breast. Someday she would demand a story for each scar, she thought again. She would lessen the pain as best she could.

She kissed every inch of skin she could, until Jon dragged her up to meet his lips. He kissed her with a wolf’s hunger, biting and licking. Daenerys loved it.

She climbed atop of him. He was ready to go again. Her hand reached down to tease him, stroking his full length. Jon broke away from her lips to groan. “Dany,” he said in a low growl.

Daenerys smiled at the sound. She wanted to hear that sound for the rest of her life. She wished they could spend the rest of their days in this bed, making love. They’d lost so much time together. 

She impaled herself on him without warning, and to her delight the sudden sensation caused Jon to yell out. He was normally so quiet, Daenerys thought, odd that he could be such a vocal bed partner. She loved it. She loved him. 

She rode him, her hips rocking against his as her teeth nipped at his lips. Jon’s hands found her breast and he began to fondle them. Daenerys closed her eyes at the pleasure. Her lover replaced one hand with his mouth as her head fell back. It was so good.

Daenerys hadn’t noticed what Jon had done with the other hand, until she felt it at her entrance, his finger tracing the button at the top of her cunt.

It was her turn to yell now, and she rode him faster. The drove each other on, racing each other to climax. Daenerys spasms came first, with Jon following directly after. She collapsed on top of him, a boneless mess. One of his arms came up to stroke her back, but he didn’t seem inclined to move either.

Daenerys felt a smile stretch her face even as her eyes closed. She dreamed of Jon and then woke up and had him once more. It was a pattern she was in no rush to break.

 

* * *

 

They were married under a weirwood tree by a septon. Both had been raised in the Light of the Seven, but Jon had learned to keep the old gods in his time in Winterfell.

The wedding was a small, simple ceremony. Hardly appropriate for a king and queen, but Daenerys knew they would need resources for the coming fight. There were commanders from her forces as well as his, so that if one of them fell in battle the other could take full command without problem. Several lords and ladies from the highest houses were in attendance, including Lords Stark and Lannister.

Robb looked happy for his cousin, Daenerys noticed. Lord Tywin looked less pleased. She knew he’d been hoping to marry her to Tommen or even Tyrion. 

Joffrey, sadly, had been killed during the wars. It had been officially reported he’d been killed by enemy troops, but Varys had told her that his little birds said that it’d been Joffrey’s own men that shot the bolt through his neck.

To appease Tywin and ensure his loyalty, she named Tyrion her Hand, which she still wasn’t sure pleased the Lannister lord. It pleased her, however, as the small man proved to be as clever as his reputation had boasted. And he seemed happy to serve her once she told him of her vision of the world she intended to create.

Jon looked the happiest she’d seen him since her return to Westeros. She knew she was happier now than she may have ever been. She thought of all the royal weddings they had attended together. They had all been far more extravagant affairs, but she preferred her own wedding.

She loved Jon so much and he was finally hers. True, they might die tomorrow, but today, today was theirs and they had each other. She gripped his hand tighter and he smiled at her in response. Tonight they would share a bed as husband and wife, queen and king, for the first time. Daenerys couldn’t wait.

In the morning, they would ride together to fight the Battle for the Dawn.

  
  
  



End file.
